Moonlight Breaking
by alucart
Summary: Two years have passed since Castlevania's fall. A lover is slain, a sleep disturbed. A plot for the resurrection of the dark lord threatens once again. YAOI/potential AluRi. M for later chapters.
1. Memory

DISCLAIMER: Fic will contain yaoi in later chapters. Don't say I didn't warn you.  
Also, I don't own Castlevania.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the first fic I've EVER written, so be nice to my inferiority complex. Secondly, I never actually finished SotN. Please excuse any Ooc-ness and failure on my part ;  
Thirdly, I'm writing this while on holiday in an RV with my parents around constantly, so updates will be few and far between ._.

Please accept my apologies and enjoy~

* * *

_Memory_

He could still remember that night.

It was so clear, so perfect in his mind's eye... The night where he found himself at the gates to the castle of chaos. When he wandered with a firm, steady resolve in his heart. His mother's dying wish still burned within him, resolved anew after that dark battle in the realm of dreams. Now more than ever he would throw down this castle and take out the master that hid deep within it.... this he swore to himself.

And on that journey, he remembered the encounter. The first time they had met…

_That scent had stirred a memory, even as he dashed down the blood soaked halls of the coliseum, his sword at ready, flickering in the dim candlelight as he brought monster after monster down at his feet. It bothered him, that smell. Though the air was heavy with blood there was something else. Something... alive, something powerful amidst the carcasses of the dead. He _knew_ this scent and yet he could not place it. He recognized it, but after such a long time isolated, alone, asleep, his memory was faint and still waking despite his progress. He mused as his feet carried him forward, his blade biting deep into every creature that crossed his path. It was this musing that made him wander unaware into the sandy circle of the arena. As the ground underfoot changed, he became aware of his surroundings; turning too late to see the heavy iron doors slam behind him._

_"Who are you and what are you doing here? I am lord of this castle, and you are quite the unwelcome guest..."_

_The sound was rich and flowing; a deep baritone, a voice unfamiliar, but the smell of his blood unmistakable._

_Belmont._

_What had that Reynard woman said? There was a Belmont lost in this castle, she was here to get him back... But his scent! His blood carried the same sweet, unmistakable signature as the one he had once known. The one that he had fought alongside three hundred years ago. But the castle's master? What was this fool thinking…?_

_He raised his eyes high into the stands, where the young man sat upon a carved chair, in a stance that seemed strangely familiar._

_"The scent of your blood... You're a Belmont..."_

_There was a beautiful arrogance about this man... he could see that as the other stared him down, head propped on his arm, leaning casually back in that chair. Dark chocolate curls framed the serious face, tumbling over his muscular shoulders and back. There was such power in his stance, casual as it was. He found he couldn't pull his eyes away. This man was his enemy. As long as he held sway over Castlevania… he would die. He must._

_But oh, what a sight he was… far away, out of reach. Proud. Fierce._

_Beautiful._

_He gazed on, cold and indifferent as those dark blue eyes narrowed and a smirk appeared upon those full lips. Belmont was thinking. And he had come to a decision._

"_Begone. I have no time for you." That smirk had faded with his words. After a moments pause, it returned as a smile. But it was a heartless, malicious display of lips and teeth, though sensual and charming. He knew that no good would follow. This Belmont would not allow him to escape with his life… _

"_But perhaps you can amuse me in your final moments."_

_There was a creaking, grating sound as a nearby iron gate slid open, a Werewolf and a Minotaur stalking out, eying him with the intent to kill. His sword was in hand and at ready in an instant, his frown dark as he prepared to do battle with the beasts._

_But once the battle was over, when they lay at his feet in the final throes of death, he turned his gaze up to the stands once more. But Belmont was nowhere to be seen._

_--_

He awoke alone in the darkness, heavy lids lifting to reveal deep, golden orbs beneath. A sigh escaped his parted lips as he roused himself. The lid of his casket was thrown wide open, the smell of earth and dry stone pervaded the air, but the silence was the silence of the grave. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he sat up and lanced one glove clad hand through his silvery-blonde hair, blinking a few times before surveying his surroundings.

Everything was just as it had been when he had woken two days before. The crypt he had chosen as his lair was still and silent, nothing had come down here and the other caskets remained untouched but for the dust he had gathered on his own hands as he had roamed amongst them. A slender beam of moonlight penetrated a crack in the crumbling tomb's ancient roof, telling him that the night was still young. It was this that he now walked to, in order to stare up towards the sky far above.

It was strange. He felt no immediate danger, no looming threat of his father, and yet he could not rest. Two days ago, he had taken the form of a bat and emerged from the crypt, roamed the countryside with little interruption, sought out a small town to glean what snippets of news he could. There were no threats; there was no foreboding castle of chaos waiting for him, no war upon humanity, no god of Death laughing from his spectral throne, mocking him and warning him of his father's eminent return. As far as he could tell, Dracula was still dead. But of course he would be. He would not return… not in this lifetime at least. Had he not put an end to that two years ago…?

But if this was the case, what _was_ he awake for? What was his purpose here?

There must be a reason. In the past he had awoken only when his aid was required for vanquishing his father. Once that task had been accomplished, he returned to sleep until such a time that he was needed again. Thus was the case in 1476… and again, he assumed…

But why? Why could he not rest peacefully? It disturbed him and worried him… was his father to rise again, so soon after he had just been vanquished? Or was it something else? Something more terrible? More foreboding?

He closed his eyes, letting the silvery moonlight caress his face. He thought it might all have been coincidence, that if he just rolled over on his side, he would just return to slumber as before. Everything was quiet. Everything was peaceful. The threat was gone, Castlevania was nothing more than a crumbling ruin on the hillside. What could he possibly need to do? There was no threat in the air, nothing to arouse suspicion or worry. For now, everything was fine.

"Look at you." He chided himself softly, staring up at the silver orb of the moon. "You're acting like a fool… go back to sleep."

Nothing is wrong.

Nothing is out of place.

The world is at peace, just like this.

--

"_Wear these… they will reveal the presence of spirits otherwise invisible to the eye…"_

_Holy Lenses. Yes, he remembered them. Maria had given them to him whilst he sought Belmont out. From what she had described, Belmont was an honorable man. A man who fought for good. The man that had vanquished his father four years earlier. And yet he had seen a different Belmont, a creature of evil, the supposed 'lord' of the castle. How could a man so noble turn traitor and become one with the darkness in a short span of years? It made no sense._

_He had found Belmont right where any castle lord would reside; the Throne Room. He had stepped into that room with the intent to kill the man, until he saw the strange green orb floating above his opponent, saw the pulses of energy transfer between it and the other man and he thanked Maria silently for what she'd given him. Now he _understood_._

_Despite what Belmont had said, despite his actions, he was nothing more than a puppet to some higher power…_

_He remembered the thrill of that battle. Facing down an opponent who hated the very creature that had sired him, a hunter of his kindred, a slayer of Vampires. Desperately they fought, a test of strength and power and agility, trying to avoid the other man's whip whilst striking out at that thing that was controlling him. There was such power, such resolve in every stroke… fighting him, yet not fighting him. This man's body was honed to the slaying of his kind, he would be lying if he said he had little difficulty in avoiding those fierce strokes. Belmont was a worthy opponent, but he could not give in and fall. Because unlike his ancestor, this man would not give him a chance to explain himself. Belmont was under his father's control. This one would kill him on the spot. And he refused to let that happen._

_With a graceful leap and a final swing of his sword, he shattered the controlling mechanism._

_Belmont gasped. Fell._

_Without a second thought, ignoring his own wounds from holy cross barriers and divine rain, he had taken those few steps forward and caught the half conscious form in his arms. He watched the shade of the Dark Priest Shaft with contempt, knowing there was a greater task at hand. But his arms tightened around his wounded opponent and as the shade disappeared he found himself looking down at the other man's form._

_Those deep blue eyes met his for an instant. He could see the pain within them, and yet at the same time he caught a hint of the other's proud, fierce character too. The words were barely audible as Belmont closed his eyes and slumped forward into his arms, but he heard them. _

_"Thank you."_

_He remembered thinking what a man this was. Despite what he had done, despite the man's weakness, this Belmont still inspired a strange feeling of admiration in him._

_Hurried footfalls echoed down the hall, muffled suddenly by the lush carpets in the room. He heard a gasp and a cry, looking up to find the young woman running towards them. He gritted his teeth, remembering his task, remembering what only he could do now. Belmont was severely weakened… and Maria couldn't very well accompany him where he was to go._

"_Take care of him, Maria. I must finish this…"_

_Even as he turned and walked away, he could still remember the way the man had felt in his arms. That strong, fierce presence, battle weary and weakened by his own hand. He could still recall the way that body had pressed to his own for those few seconds…_

Golden eyes snapped open, a low growl rumbling in his throat loud enough to echo around the chamber. Sunlight was poking through the crack in the tomb's ceiling, the soft sounds of morning life piercing the silence of the dead amongst him. Only a handful of hours had passed in this most recent slumber.

"Be damned!" He snarled, sitting up and practically leaping out of his casket. His cape billowed about him as he snatched up the Alucard sword from where he'd left it propped in its sheath by the wall and strode resolutely towards the barred iron gate of the crypt. This was no coincidence. Something _needed_ him awake and there was a purpose for him to fulfill. And if nobody was around to tell him what that was, he would go out and seek the answers for himself, just so he could lose himself in eternal slumber once again.

He hit the gate as a body of mist and set out into the sunshine.

* * *

Long chapter is long D:  
Nonetheless, read and review for me? I promise I'll get better if I can only have your critiques and kind words~!


	2. Revelation

DISCLAIMER: Don't own Castlevania. Also, there's yaoi in here. Not in this particular chapter, but it WILL be here.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was initially buttloads longer than this, but I had to cut it down. I'm not all too pleased with it, so if you find anything wrong in here, let me know xD;  
Aaand I'm still not too confident with Richter's personality. Please forgive for any OOCness.  
Thirdly, I've been in a panic over whether or not this chapter lives up to the style and writing of the previous. Terrified little me is worried that my language has gone downhill since chapter 1. If you care to assauge my fears, please do so. Or kick me in the tits. That works too :3

CHAPTER GOT SPELLCHECKED. FUCK YES.

Onward we go~

* * *

_Revelation_

_"Can you hear us Belmont? Can you feel the tides of war a-coming?"_

_"He is coming for you Richter, he wants you and he needs you... do you remember?"_

"No!"

A sharp gasp burst from between full lips, blue eyes snapping open to reveal terror in their depths for just one sharp moment. Richter Belmont awoke with the last few strands of the nightmare teasing the fringes of his vision, his heart racing and a terrible clammy sweat upon his skin. He stared overhead at the humble wooden beams that made up the roof of his home and let his breath out in a low hiss between his teeth. He had not realized he had been holding it until that instant.

He sat up slowly, letting the thin blanket fall to his waist. One hand ran through his dark tangle of hair as he surveyed the room around him. It was his guestroom, and a simple one at that; his bed in the corner, a small table near the door... it was more ornamental than useful, a chair beside it over which he'd draped his clothing before he'd taken to sleep. Sunlight streamed through the window and birdsong brightened the morning air as villagers outside began their daily tasks. This alone was reassuring, waking in a familiar place among familiar people. He couldn't help but smile as he silently gave thanks for the day.

He was safe.

--

It had been two years.

Two years since he had escaped the Castle of Chaos and its dark master, two years since he'd turned his back on the crumbling ruin on the hillside. He had taken freedom and run with it, swearing to never look back. Annette had welcomed him with open arms, had told him how afraid she was for him, how she had prayed and prayed that he would come home safe. He had thanked her for her prayers and held her, marveling at simply being alive after his ordeal in the black heart of that place. He had sworn he would never think on it again.

But still, it had not been easy. There were always the fearful, the superstitious. There would always be those who feared him more now than they had before due to the Castle's influence, due to his return alive. No mere man would be able to survive such an ordeal, they said. Richter dutifully agreed with them; even he was amazed that he had emerged whole in heart and mind. Now all that he wanted was to live out the rest of his days in peace, at the side of his beautiful wife. Many accepted his words, few doubted them. But as he appeared earnest and true, and no blight or plague had befallen the village since his return, they had no choice but to admit that he was harmless... if only for the meantime.

However, when he was on his own, Richter still worried. Something had happened within those black walls. Something that had taken the better part of his first year of freedom to forget. He said forget, but that was never quite the case. He knew he could never _truly_ forget. And it agonized and taxed his soul.

Within those stone walls he had fallen prey to the darkness. Something had possessed him, wickedness and corruption had touched him. Its inhabitants had filled him with the bleakest, direst sin. Evil had wrapped its cold hands about his heart and pulled him to its breast; and the Count had done the same on many a numerous occasion. It had not mattered where; Dracula had taken his hand and disrobed him on any whim. Every time, Richter had been powerless to stop him.

Behind closed doors and shuttered windows his body had been so terribly defiled. He could remember every cold touch, every harsh breath. He still trembled with the memory of the pain, of his screams echoing in dark corridors and lush bedrooms... two years later and even now he felt as though he'd never be cleansed again. No amount of prayer, no amount of confession or purification had made any difference. There was a blight of darkness upon his soul and no matter how he tried, he could not remove it. It was a wrongness so complete and so disgusting that he felt he would be branded forever with no escape, no salvation...

He rose slowly from his bed with a leisurely stretch and a wide yawn. It made him sad, sleeping away from his beloved like this, but it was something that could not be helped. In recent months he had begun to dream on terrible things, the castle and its black inhabitants. Memories of those dark halls haunted his sleep, Dracula's chilling laughter ringing in his ears. He saw people burning, saw demons overrunning the land, watched helplessly as humankind was wiped from the earth as he was trapped in a cold embrace, powerless to do anything. At first these had just startled him awake. As the dreams took on a more violent nature, he found himself crying out and weeping. Annette would often wake him, her face worried, eyes filled with concern. He had shaken his head, telling her it was nothing, that she should not concern herself over his dreams. But when he had heard silver whispers in his sleep; voices thanking him for his aid in the slaughter and telling him that Dracula would claim him once again, the following visions and memories brought screams to his lips, sending his sleeping body into convulsions of terror. It was because of these nightmares, though few and far between, that he had shifted out of his room with Annette and taken to sleeping in the small guestroom. He no longer wanted to trouble her with his dark dreams, nor see the worry and fear in her eyes.

His bare feet were silent on the wooden floor as he slipped out of the guestroom and into the bedroom he and Annette had shared until not so ago. A smile crossed his lips as he gazed upon the sight of his sleeping lover, her slender form illuminated by morning's bright glow. When he could look upon her, remember he had her, his friends, a simple happiness; he could almost forget the darkness of the Castle and the terrible hold that the Count had held over him. _Almost._

His smile faded; suddenly he was aching for the warmth and comfort of his beloved. As quietly as he could, he crossed the room slipping into bed beside her and pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, uttering a soft 'good morning' into her hair. His heart warmed as she turned, a sleepy smile crossing her lips as she wound an arm about his neck and held him close.

"I heard no cries from your room last night." She murmured, laughing softly as he kissed her cheeks and neck. "I trust you slept well?"

He smiled, nodding, unwilling to share the warnings of the whispering darkness that had so chilled his heart. She didn't need to know. It was better this way.

They spoke about lighter things, what they were to do today, work to begin and chores to finish. It was so simple, so trifling... the dream and its silver warnings soon faded from his mind.

--

The shadows of the day were growing long when Maria appeared to visit him that afternoon. Richter was around the back of the house, busy working his way through a pile of firewood. The nights were growing colder and the only logs he had come across were too large and cumbersome to set easily into the fireplace. Chopping wood was such a domestic task, work reserved for half grown boys; but it kept his mind from wandering, honed his precision, kept him strong. He didn't look up when he heard footfalls in the grass, his mind occupied with other matters, aching for a proper rest. Maria crossed her arms, leaning against the woodshed to watch him for a few moments before finally clearing her throat. He looked up, uttered a soft 'oh' of surprise and set his axe aside.

"Working yourself to the bone as usual, Richter." She laughed lightly. "I'm hardly surprised."

A slight smile crossed his face, but it seemed flat and unfelt. "It keeps my mind from other unplesantries. How fare you, Maria?"

"Well enough." came the reply. She had taken note of the dull sheen in his eyes, at the bitter undercurrent in his words. "But I can tell something is troubling you. You do not do well in disguising it on your features. Tell me."

Richter sighed, knowing it was pointless to try and avoid the question. Of all the people he knew, Maria was the one he was most comfortable talking to about his ordeal at the Castle. She had been there too; she had also seen the horrors... though perhaps not to the magnitude that he had experienced. He sighed heavily and hefted his axe again.

"I dreamed again of the Castle last night. It was... as it always was. A simple dream of darkness in which I heard those voices telling me that... that the war upon mankind was not yet over." His face clouded, a frown upon his lips. "They said that someone would bring the dark one to rise again and that I would be the one to pay." Heavy lids slipped over his eyes as an expression of anger crossed his face for an instant. There was the decisive swish and hard thunk as he brought the axe down hard on another block of wood. He went on to explain his nightmares, of the wailing, the dying, malicious laughter and familiar, unwelcoming halls. "I grow weary of such dreams. Night after night, they call to me, they plague me with the cries of the dying and I am powerless to do aught...!"

Maria listened silently, catching the note of true anguish in his voice. They must have been really terrible, these dreams, to move him so. Since his return from Castlevania he was definitely looking healthier, he had settled quickly back into life as it once had been. But always when they talked she saw something haunting his eyes. A terror that had not quite been vanquished, but one that had been cleverly disguised and hidden so nobody but the most careful observer would notice. But she knew what to look for, she always had. Richter was very close to her heart after all. She felt she had to do something, encourage him, help him. It had been two years and though he smiled, the grimness behind his eyes remained. It had gone on long enough.

"Richter, you are a good, kind man." She said softly, holding his gaze as he raised his eyes to look at her in slight bewilderment. "You care about those souls that are dying even if they are mere shades in your dreams. You stand strong against this torrent of nightmares even though it assails you every night. But look at me, Richter. Listen to me. The Castle is well and truly gone." She sighed, stepping forward to place a hand on his shoulder as he dropped his gaze. "Believe me. We saw Dracula vanquished. We watched the Castle fall. It will not rise again. It has ended. The only demons that remain are the ones in your mind. You need to stop berating yourself over your capture. If you continue to dwell on it, of course it will live on in your mind and your heart..."

He could not meet her eyes. It brought back shameful memories of his downfall. He had simply disappeared, greed drawing him back to the Castle that day... had it been his own greed or the greed of his captors? He no longer knew. His thoughts were jumbled, intertwined with Dracula's will and Shaft's dark ambition.

He blinked as he felt a light touch on his chin. Maria had placed her hand there, gently but firmly forcing him to look at her once again.

"I'm not asking you to cast your memories aside right away." She said softly. "But Richter, you need to help yourself. Nobody knows what you saw within the castle but you. You have us, your friends, your loved ones, but we can only help you so much. If you refuse to let your wounds heal, they never will."

His fingers wrapped about her slender wrist as he carefully removed her hand from his face. "I know not how I can make them leave me in peace." He said softly. "What can I do, Maria?"

"Will it!" She replied. "If you stand for light and believe with all your heart, then the light shall blossom and the darkness recede. It will take some time, Richter, but you've always been strong. I believe in you. I believe that you can overcome this, just as you have overcome trials before."

He considered her words thoughtfully, taking them to heart. They brought him consolation, and he knew that she was right. Perhaps he had spent far too long lingering on black memories. Just as he had before, he could fight the darkness. He need only try.

"Perhaps you are right." He said softly. "Please forgive my foolishness. Your words have brought me great consolation and I thank you."

The smile that spread across his face was tired, yet somehow triumphant. This time she knew it was sincere, this time she felt that he believed her. She let her hand drop, smiling back at him.

--

_With time your wounds shall heal. With time, life shall continue onward._

_All you need do is to believe._

He lay alone in the guestroom, contemplating his conversation with Maria that evening. Having someone to unburden his nightmares to had eased his fears, her words had given him more strength than he'd thought possible. He smiled to himself. It would not be easy to overcome the dreams, the memories, but she believed in him, Annette supported him. He would be victorious in the end.

He fell asleep, untroubled by shades and whispers for the first time in months.

* * *

And there we have a second chapter.  
AM I DOIN IT RITE? D:

R&R please! And thank you for your support!


	3. Discord

DISCLAIMER: As before, I don't own these two lovely bishonen. Or anything else in the Castlevania series. HERE THERE BE SUGGESTED YURI. LATER WILL COME THE YAOI.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Someone tell Richter I'm sorry for bashing him so much. Secondly, this chapter combines two of the three things I live for. Thirdly, were-bears. They don't appear in SotN, do they? I'm sorry, I was remembering Circle of the Moon last night and the were-bear was the first thing that came to my mind, so I went ahead and used it. Werewolves, were-panthers and were-jaguars just didn't seem appropriate for this kind of scenario.  
Lastly, I go back to travelling in my RV tomorrow as my trip has nearly ended and I need to get to California so I can fly home -.- So this will be the last chapter from me for quite some time.

Cookies and love for Zel and Siberian for your reviews and happy-comments :'D They keep me motivated both fanficwise and artwise.

* * *

_Discord_

_"Oh foolish mortal, did you really believe we were gone?"_

Richter had been granted a week of peace, it seemed. Peace that was not quite peace, as ill tidings seemed to be rising on the breeze. The wild beasts of the forests were suddenly awake in these colder months, their howls and growls disturbing the sleep of all in the dark night. Crows and cunning ravens were gathering along the traveler's roads, clustering together on the skeletal branches of trees, their harsh croaking unnerving even the hardiest of wanderers.

Three days ago a great, monstrous bear had lumbered out of the forest and killed one of the village boys down at the river as the other children had fled, screaming and terrified. It caused uproar among the small community, and the instant Richter heard, he had taken Vampire Killer and gone to investigate.

What he had found there was none other than a were-bear. A beast of ursine proportions all clad in shaggy, blue-black fur. Perhaps the most terrifying of all the were-beasts that lived, the creature's strength was nonetheless more powerful at moonrise. Its claws spelled death to anyone who touched it, a curse would be laid upon any mortal body that survived even the smallest scratch. Where had it come from? There had been no monsters in the area for years…

He remembered how his body had tensed as the bear caught wind of his scent and turned, its maw reddened with blood. At its feet was a bloodied tangle of flesh and bone… all that remained of that poor boy.

"Where have you come from, creature?" Richter asked softly, slowly uncoiling the whip from his side. "Why must you and your wicked kind rise again?" He had stared into the bear's small, black eyes, seeing only heartless cruelty and anger reflected back. Had this beast once been human? It was assumed that all the were-creatures had been some time long ago. But it was too late for this one either way. Vampire Killer was practically singing in his hand as he lunged at the creature, dodging under its flailing paws and lethal claws, striking it hard. Flesh sizzled as a wide, bloodied swath appeared across its belly, and the beast roared in pain as Richter leapt nimbly away to begin his assault afresh. It was not long before the creature was felled, its dimming eyes never once losing their expression of hatred and rage.

As he watched it die, he couldn't help but feel a sad sense of irony. How tragic that once his dreams had finally ceased, a monster had appeared in the waking world again.

--

Yes, it had been nothing more than a short repose. He would later hear that similar incidents were beginning to occur all over Walachia. Young men were disappearing from the towns to the north, they were often found far, far away lying dead as though asleep, their faces twisted in grosquetely happy masks. Terrible little imps had made their presence known, setting fires to crops and homes alike. These were thankfully easily placated with saucers of milk. Travelers that had once walked the wagon trails between the towns were growing fewer and fewer; those brave enough to make the journey more often than not ended up face down in a ditch with their bodies covered in strange wounds. Even worse, sometimes they simply disappeared and could never be found again.

The people of his own village lived in constant fear that another bear or some other more hideous beast would come to destroy them. Worse still, tongues wagged and witch hunts were on the rise once again. It made the populace feel safe for a little while, gave many the opportunity to rid themselves of their enemies. Richter's stay at Castlevania had not been forgotten by a black hearted few, and rumors began to rise that the demons were on the prowl for him, to take him back to the breast of their dark master.

He had adamantly denied this claim with more than a little anger, but he was backed by Annette and his friends. In order to prove his integrity he had began a sort of patrol, walking the perimeter of the town with Vampire Killer in hand, his eyes towards the trees in case any other beast should arise to smite them. Many times a day he was sent dashing into the forest after some child thinking it were a warrior, or after someone's hound that had gotten free of its kennel. Often he'd be sent in anyway because someone had thought they'd seen a werewolf or other such beast. It was tiring work. He barely had a moment to himself any more, and he found he had no time to rest, no time to think and muse as he once had. He missed Annette, but at least they were together in the evenings, still sharing the day's stories, now sharing the same bed once again. It was small consolation, but he knew his life would be at stake if he refused to keep an eye out for monsters. The superstitious and the fearful refused to forget.

--

He was bone weary that night. He had no idea how he had managed to stumble up the steps to his own front door, he was so tired. A few of the more terrified villagers had roused him before the sun came up, saying they had heard strange things in the night. Today he had chased after two children wanting to play hero, and killed a half starved wolf that had happened across him in the forest. Annette must have noticed something, for when he raised his eyes to look at her, he saw only concern and worry on her face. He waved off her invitation for supper, wanting nothing more than to go straight to bed. He was exhausted.

The warm bedroom they shared had never looked so inviting. Richter barely had the energy to kick off his boots and shed his coat before dropping like a stone into the mattress. He didn't even notice as Annette slipped into bed beside him; his body had fallen into thankful slumber the moment his head touched the pillow.

--

"_Oh Belmont, are they working you to the bone? My, but this is only the beginning…"_

"_You are no match for him, mortal. His mind is stronger than your mind. He will take you yet…"_

_He was running down the vast, bright halls of a familiar castle, the uncaring marble echoing every footfall. Something dark and terrible was pursuing him; he could feel its presence behind him, following his every step. But he had walked this castle before; he could remember the way out. Yet it seemed like wherever he turned, the twisting gallery was the same or so vastly warped he became lost and disorientated. Cold laughter sounded behind him, a light touch on his arm made him flinch and run all the faster._

_"Why do you run, Belmont?" Came the chilling whisper. "You will be mine in the end. Come to me."_

_Panic spurred him on. He was running blindly now, taking any random turn and passage, a sickening feeling growing in the pit of his stomach._

_"Look at me, Richter. Let me see your face again. Let me hear you scream for me."_

_"No!" He gasped, breath escaping him in choked sobs. He knew not where he found the strength to continue to run, every muscle in his body was screaming out in exhaustion and pain. "Never!"_

_He leapt over low walls, ducked under wall hangings, his loud footfalls giving his position away every time. But he didn't care. His desperation and growing terror overruled all logical thought. Eventually this terrible darkness would tire and leave him be... it had to, it must..._

_He rounded a corner and found himself facing a long corridor. But at the end stood an open doorway, a metal grating all covered in bloodied spines dropping from its high arch. He had faced danger like this before, spikes did not intimidate him. He ran for it, leapt into a sliding dash, his heart racing as he feared for a moment that he had been an instant too late... but suddenly the grate clanged into place behind him, catching only a scrap of cloth from his coattails. He had been successful, but barely._

_There was a sigh from behind him, and the cold voice now carried an air of boredom and resignation._

_"You win this time, Belmont. But do not think your escape has not gone unpunished. Look before you at your tomorrow."_

_And Richter, breathing hard, did just that._

_What stood beyond the high entrance arch of the castle was his own village. Except it was a village aflame, tongues of fire completely engulfing the small, humble buildings. His eyes grew wide as fresh terror engulfed his heart. Time seemed to quicken, the flames spread, the cries of the burnt, the dying echoing in his ears. He tried to run towards the flaming ruins, but his legs would not move. He closed his eyes so he would not have to see all that he loved razed to the ground, but it merely amplified the villagers tortured screams and cries for help. He struggled. He willed himself to run. Willed himself to move. And suddenly he was racing towards his home, even as the last of the fire flickered and died, leaving only a burnt shell behind._

_He ran hither and thither down the streets, calling for survivors, calling for his friends, for Maria, for Annette. He was shivering terribly at this point, shocked and terrified, fleeing one nightmare only to be faced with another. All he found amongst the smoldering timbers were shriveled, blackened forms. Charred remains of what were once his people. He screamed Annette's name, following ash strewn streets to his own abode. No charred, lifeless doll was there. But she could have been anywhere when the fire struck..._

_"All this will come to pass, Belmont."_

_He jumped as the soft, sultry voice spoke behind him. He whirled, finding himself faced with a creature of voluptuous charm and seductive beauty. Clad in nothing but a bustier, her crimson locks framing her clever, pointed face, the succubus stood across the dusty street from him and clasped in her arms, shivering with fear was a terrified, but very alive, Annette. He cried out, hand flying to his side for a whip that was not there. The creature laughed, carding slender fingers through his lover's hair. Annette struggled weakly._

_"She's such a pretty one, isn't she?" She laughed softly. "How highly do you value her life? Would you pay me with your body to get her back?"_

_"I don't deal with the likes of you, demon." He snarled. "Let her go."_

_He was answered with mocking laughter. "Let her go? My, how can I trust you with her? You're so savage towards me. I don't want to give her up. I like her too." He watched, feeling sick disgust as the she-demon nosed Annette's hair, ran her tongue up the other woman's neck. "Such pretty hair... soft skin..."_

_"Enough!" He roared. "Leave her be!"_

_The succubus raised her head and gazed at him, a smile filled with amusement crossing her lips. Her eyes were mild, almost bored. "I'm afraid I cannot, Belmont. My lord has deemed her the first to die." She reached into her bustier, drawing a slender blade from between her breasts. Richter's eyes widened, fear tugging afresh at his heart. Unarmed, he ran at the she-demon, but in a swish of wings she had dodged aside, laughing softly and cruelly._

_"You can do nothing against me unarmed, fool." She giggled. "But watch! I don't want you to miss an instant of this show!"_

_He cried out, seeing the tears in his beloved's eyes, hearing her whimpers, silent pleas for help. He had failed everyone else in his village... he could not fail her. With another roar born of frantic desperation, he launched himself at the creature again. This time the succubus did not move._

_"Time be still!" She cried, raising her hand._

_Richter could not have known a moment of fear so pure and intense as what he felt in that instant. What was this? How could a low level demon such as her be able to freeze him in place so completely, rend him completely and utterly immobile...? He struggled, he willed his body to move and respond again. He screamed and swore and wept, even begging the she-demon to spare Annette's life, but he could not close his eyes to the horror that unfolded before him._

_With languid ease, the succubus took the slender blade in one hand, using the other to draw Annette to her breast. She kissed the other woman upon the cheek, pressing the dagger to Annette's throat an instant later._

_"She's too pretty for me to make her suffer." She sighed. "Even though my lord asked me to draw it out to the very end... make sure that you witness a wonderfully bloody, brutal death... I cannot." The she-demon's fingers caressed Annette's face lightly. "Don't worry; this will be a clean kill." Annette struggled afresh, desperately trying to get away from her would-be slayer. "Goodbye." The succubus murmured a second later._

_The blade flashed brightly against the pale skin of his lover's throat, Annette didn't even have time to scream. Time seemed to slow as her eyes widened, rolling back until only the whites showed. She would have crumpled and fallen, but the succubus held her by her hair, keeping her upright. Bright blood splashed to the ground, thickening as it mingled with the ruined ash..._

_And Richter screamed, terrible and anguished, his body unmoving, his anger and grief so great. Annette's name was on his lips even as tears spilled from his eyes and he felt his body begin to move again. But something was happening, the dream was fading. The succubus' triumphant grin was melting from his vision only to be replaced with something else..._

His own grief-stricken screams brought him back to the waking world; he could feel wet tears upon his face and something else... his face stung. He touched his cheek to find gouges from his own nails, fingertips reddened with his blood. He gasped, turning his head to the side, only to find Annette was not in bed beside him. Terror clutched at his heart as he sat up quickly, looking wildly about the room for her. It was only after he'd listened to the sound of his own panicked breathing for a few moments that he relaxed enough to look about a little more carefully. It was then that he found her.

She stood across the room from him, her body half hidden behind the open doorway. A small bedside lamp was clasped in her hand; it cast a weak orange light into the shadowed room. He felt weak with immediate relief, but it was short lived as he looked carefully at her face in the candle-flicker gloom.

Beneath the contorting shadows, there was only pure terrified fear reflected in her eyes.

* * *

The succubus generally tends to fill me with more erotic joy than one can imagine (Waitwut? No! I don't mean that). Of course, if I'm going to use her, I'm bound to milk her for everything she's got =w=  
Also, her strange Zephyr-esque ability there will be explained later. I promise.

Adrian had a massive panic attack when she noticed this chapter was more than 4 pages long on Wordpad. Forgive long chapter for being long.

Also, I'm no good at writing death scenes, evein if it IS only a dream sequence. Please forgive.  
R&R too! I'd love to know how you think I'm doing... xD;


	4. Disaster

DISCLAIMER: Don't own Castlevania. If I did there would be too much succubus and not enough gameplay, so be glad. Yaoi will follow eventually. I warned you.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've had massive writer's block whilst writing this chapter. I get the feeling I'm taking it too fast and I'm not all too happy with that. Also, not sure if they had teabags in the 1700s. Too lazy to wiki it to be sure. Please forgive if its out of context.  
Thirdly, I've spent waay too long playing Ecclesia when I should have been writing this. Shanoa is a delight to behold and I hope you'll forgive my sad weakness of the flesh.

But anyway, lets go on.

* * *

_Disaster_

The sky was bright as Maria walked down the familiar streets of the village, greeting all that she passed, carefully stepping out of the path of some children playing in the street. There was a smile on her lips, but her mind was troubled. Ever since Annette had come back home in tears and trembling with fear, she had heard nothing from Richter. The hunter had barricaded himself in his home, refusing to see anyone and refusing to go out and keep vigil for were-bears and other beasts of the forest. The villagers were getting edgy and anxious. They needed the security that he offered, and without it, tension was high and fear was full and abound in the community. Rumors and anxieties had once again begun to fly.

Annette had told them of the monstrous nightmare her former beloved had. She awoke to Richter screaming her name, his voice so strained and anguished that it sounded as though he were mourning. It was not the first time she had awoken to Richter caught in the violent spasms of a dream, but never had his movements been so violent, never before had he caused himself any harm. She had not known what to do; she was afraid to try to shake him awake for fear he might harm her, and she knew not what else she could try. She had only hidden behind the doorframe, crying his name until he woke. And when he finally had, the look in his eyes, so fearful and desperate, had terrified her. Maria had never believed that Annette would succumb to the talk of the town, would ever listen to the rumors of Richter being possessed by demons, filled with darkness. But she had been listening and taking those idle, fearful worlds to heart. Maria could see that slowly, Annette had begun to doubt her husband, begun to fear him. She had kept it hidden until this point. Whatever had happened that night, it had proved too much for her and her fear and won out over her love for him. She had run. With no intent on ever looking back.

Maria had been sympathetic, as had the rest of her family, warmly welcoming Annette back amongst them, promising to protect her from any harm. It was nice to have her sister back at home, but Maria couldn't help but wish that it was under better circumstances. However, she worried about Richter, and that was her reason for being out today. His house was dark, the curtains drawn; it looked for all the world deserted. She knew he was within, but he answered nobody who came to the door. It was bad enough that he was plagued with fearful villagers every day, but to have Annette leave him as well... she wondered if she was the only one here that actually cared for his wellbeing.

--

Richter awoke to a sharp, hard rapping noise that startled him out of a dreamless yet uneasy sleep. He struggled to untangle himself from the rumpled sheets on his bed and groggily raised his head to look out of the window. A moment later he realized the curtains were drawn, a slender beam of sunlight piercing the crack between them. Judging from the intensity of the light that shone through, he assumed that it was late in the morning. He contemplated on what it was exactly that had woken him, when the sound came again. Realizing that somebody was at the door, most likely trying to coax him out to protect them from imaginary fiends, he groaned, closed his eyes and rolled on to his side.

"Be damned." He growled, pulling the blankets over his head. "Leave me in peace."

And yet the knocking did not cease. It had happened constantly over the past few days, villagers coming to his door, begging him to come out... some had been gentler than others. But what did it mater? It was their fault he was buried beneath a mass of tangled sheets, hiding like some animal gone off to die. Their rumors, their lies... they had taken Annette from him. He felt as though he did not want to go on living.

It had been four days ago since she had fled from the home they had shared for so many years. She had tears in her eyes as she explained in a high, fearful voice that she could no longer bear to be at his side, to hear him scream and cry in his sleep, to have to stand with he who had been called a devil and a demon. She could not love a man that mourned her death while she slept beside him.

_I can stand this no longer!! Let me be free of you!!!_

And with those words, spoken in fear and terror, she had broken his heart.

He no longer wanted to face the day. No longer wanted to run around and waste his already expended energy on looking for beasts that did not exist. Annette was gone, and this would only spawn fresh rumors, fresh lies. He felt as though he was living a nightmare; his sleep haunted by whispers and the bleak shape of a black castle just beyond the horizon, his waking hours alone in a cold house, no longer warmed by Annette's gentle smile or light laughter. He was so tired, yet unable to sleep. Just as it had in the past, the darkness was beginning to settle over him like a cloak, except this time there was nothing to hold him fast to his resolve. The woman he loved was gone, and she would never come back.

"Richter? Richter, please. Let me in. I need to speak to you."

That clear voice cut through his sorry thoughts like a knife. He raised his head again, this time in uncertainty. Was that Maria? What was she doing here? Surely Annette would have turned her sister against him too... But Maria was perhaps the only person in the village who would want to speak to him about something other than resuming his monster hunts. Even his other friends had come, asking him to return to his 'duties'. But as he mused on this, he was surprised to find himself rising from his bed and silently making his way down the cold, dark hall to the front door.

--

It was not long before the two of them were sitting at the kitchen table. Richter had tried to make himself appear as a good host, but Maria had insisted that he sit while she make tea. He had grudgingly obliged, slumped into a chair and had remained silent ever since.

As she set about heating water and preparing teabags, Maria glanced over at him and felt a sad, aching stab of pity. Richter was a sorry sight indeed. He looked as though he had not left his bed since Annette had gone. His hair was tangled, his shoulders stooped; he had the look of a man that had been run to exhaustion. She did not fail to note that his eyes were red, and that the fierce, proud spark within them seemed to have dulled. She was gazing upon a broken man, one with too many burdens upon his mortal soul. He sat quietly at the table, waiting for her, his head lowered and eyes downcast. He almost protested when she had opened the curtains, but it was as though he didn't have the will to argue. She had forgotten that he would not be taking this as well as her sister had. He was the victim here, haunted and troubled by things that nobody in the village could understand, that she herself could grasp only a little of. She set a teacup down before him, watching him with a concerned eye as he half raised his head to look up at her. He uttered a soft thanks, lowering his gaze once again to stare at the brew. The silence was thick and heavy about them.

"You wanted to speak to me?" He asked at length, taking a slow sip of his tea.

"I'm worried about you, Richter." She replied, gazing at him. "Things have been said and the villagers are growing anxious. News from further away has not been well either. Everyone wants to know why you've locked yourself away and won't come out." She paused. "And seeing you now, I worry all the more. Forgive me for saying, but you look terrible."

He laughed a soft, bitter laugh at that. "I'm grieving, Maria. How is a man supposed to look when the one he loves has turned away from him for good? How is he supposed to look when she calls him a devil?"

She winced at the hurt in his voice. "I'm sorry..." she murmured. "But please Richter. I'm your friend. Let me know what's hurting you." She reached across the table and clasped his hand firmly in her own. "Let me know how I can help."

And Richter had stared at her, his eyes filling with tears. Of all the people in the village, Maria was the only one who had come to him wanting to comfort him. Annette was gone, the small community had expectations of him that were beyond his ability, whispers and lies about him passed from the gossipers' lips to the ears of the innocent. How long would it be before he was driven out of this small community? All he needed right now was someone to care about how _he_ felt. Someone to acknowledge his pain and help him overcome it. As the tears spilled over, he found himself telling her about everything that had come to pass. His terrible dream, his grief, his misery. He wanted Annette to come back, wanted her to think over what she had told him. He loved her so much; he never wanted to be apart from her like this. He couldn't hunt monsters while his heart was so heavy. Nothing had come to bother them since the were-bear anyway. It didn't matter that there were ill tidings from the north, that there were imps to the west and monstrous fish to the south. Nothing had harmed them _here_, and he had promised his protection. Why was that not enough? Why could nobody understand that he had lost something so precious to him, something that he would never again recover? Why could they not leave him in peace?

Maria sat beside him, gently patting his shoulder, offering her consolations and helpful words when she could. She could easily see the pain on his face, hear the anguish in his voice. It tore at her heart.

"I know not if I can go on living here, Maria." He said softly. "Too much is expected of me and every time I see her..." he shook his head. "I do not think I will be able to bear it."

He expected to hear her protest, but Maria remained uneasily silent. "You may not have to, Richter." She said awkwardly after a moment. "That is another reason I came to speak with you. Annette said that... she cannot bear your company any longer." Her gaze was sad as she looked at him. "She is so afraid. I do not understand why, you're such a gentle soul. I know the rumors about you aren't true, I've tried my hardest to get her to listen to me... but stubbornness must run in our family." She shifted a little in her seat. "In three day's time, she goes to the north. We have family in a village up there that are more than happy to have her with them."

Richter stared at her. "The roads have been dangerous of late. How could she even _think_ of traveling under these conditions?!" Anguish had been replaced with genuine worry. "At least let me go with her so I can see her safe..."

Yet even as he said it, he knew that it was an empty wish. Maria's sad smile and the slow shake of her head confirmed it.

"I tried to tell her the same thing." she said softly. "She refused to agree to it."

Richter closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "Does she really loathe me so much?" His voice cracked with emotion, fresh tears brimming in his eyes. "Have I really become such a monster overnight?!"

Maria could only hold him tightly as he began to weep afresh.

--

In three days time, he found himself waking with a sense of dread. Sadness weighed heavy on his heart as he did his best to make himself look presentable; trying to tame his now unruly mane of hair into the sleek curls they once had been, washing his face and trying to hide the redness of his eyes, attempting a smile at the mirror to show he was not _truly_ broken. Not yet.

He gazed out of the window at the busy street, knowing that further up along the main road a carriage would be waiting. Waiting to take the one he loved far, far away to a place where she would no longer have to see him. He couldn't help but wonder when it was that her love for him had dissolved into fear, and why he had not noticed it any sooner. But he had hurt himself over it for too long. Today he intended to say a proper goodbye to Annette, to ask her of one last favor before she left him for good.

She had returned to their home once, just once, with Maria at her side to take what was hers. The day had been uneasy and Maria was constantly breaking the silence between the two. He had never felt so wretched in his life, and he regretted not saying anything until this moment. But now his resolve was firm. For the first time in a week, he donned his coat, opened the windows and curtains and headed outside. Maria was there to greet him.

The two of them silently headed down the streets, following the familiar route from Richter's home to that of the Reynards. He was not surprised to see a carriage waiting on the street, drawn by four well groomed horses. What did surprise him, however, was the presence of two hired swords. They calmly waited astride their own mounts, fierce, well tempered mercenaries. They looked as though they would have no trouble protecting her from disaster on the road.

Annette herself was waiting on the front doorstep as the coachman loaded the last of her things on board. A sharp, painful ache made itself known in his chest as he looked upon her, knowing that this would probably be their last conversation. And it was bound to be an unhappy one.

She had smiled when Maria approached, but stiffened when she saw that he followed. Seeing that beautiful face, that smile fade as her gaze passed over him, it hurt. But he had expected it and steeled himself against the emotional blow.

"Annette." He said softly. "Please don't be like this. I have merely come to bid you goodbye and wish you safe travel." He paused uncertainly, feeling awful that he had to speak so formally to the one who he had once been so intimate with. "I just want to ask you one thing."

"If it is your company on this journey, you can already see my mind is made up." She replied icily, turning her gaze away from him. "I have no need of another escort."

"You know I would never forgive myself if you came to any harm."

"Then do not work yourself up over nothing, Richter." Why did she refuse to look at him? Was he that much of a blight to her? "With these two taking care of me, I can assure you of my safety. It matters not that you are a Belmont; there are other men who can protect me just as well as you could." She carefully descended the stairs and headed for the carriage, where the coachman offered her his hand to help her inside.

"Annette!" He called. "Wait!"

She paused, turning her gaze upon him irritably, expectantly. He gazed back, eyes filled with sadness and pain.

"Please. Never forget that I love you. I... I hope you can find happiness wherever your journey takes you." He lowered his gaze, feeling his heart break all over again as he heard the words leave his lips. "Take care... Annette."

Her own eyes had lowered some time ago as she turned away. "Farewell, Richter." she breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

And with that, she was within the carriage, the door shutting soundly behind her. Moments later, a whip cracked and the horses were making their way down the street. Annette was leaving her home, her family... leaving the memories of her husband behind. Richter forced himself to watch as they progressed down the traveler's road, disappearing out of his life for good. He stood and watched even once they were out of sight, until the thudding sound of hooves on dirt finally faded beyond hearing. Only then did he turn his back on the road and walk numbly back to his own home. Only after he had shut the door and closed the windows did he head into his room and cry his anguish into the pillows.

A cold wind had begun to blow, bringing dark clouds with it.

--

_"All this will come to pass, mortal."_

_"My lord has deemed her the first to die..."_

_The dreadful dream was returning to him. The black shell of his village surrounded him; the smell of burnt flesh saturated the very air, making him choke and gag._

_"It will be a clean death... she's too pretty for me to make her suffer."_

_The succubus stood before him, a slender blade resting in her hand. She twirled it idly, watching him through her dark, cunning eyes. Behind her, thunder rumbled and lightning illuminated the sky. Rain began to fall in thick, dark drops. It stained the ash covered earth where it fell._

_"You should have followed her. Perhaps you could have saved her."_

_He couldn't move. No matter how hard he willed his body, he had been rendered immobile by some other force. The rain was heavy. The droplets falling thick and red... just like blood._

_"She will die, Belmont. She will DIE."_

_He heard a horse scream, followed by a terrible crash. A woman's voice shrieked into the night as swords bit deep into flesh. The heavy breath of men wearied by battle followed the dark, inhuman chuckle of some invisible beast. There were more screams, men dying, horses dying. A triumphant howl to the deep red moon above._

_The succubus was laughing a low, joyous laugh. "Can you not feel the chaos? Can you not feel him returning?" It rose into an excited crescendo. "Revel in it, Belmont! She is DEAD!"_

_Her slender blade whicked across the empty air, and suddenly she was clutching a severed head by its hair. He stared into its wet, dead eyes, its gaping mouth, feeling an unfreeable scream lodged in his throat. The succubus' excited cries seemed to echo in his mind as the head stared back at him, as the lips moved and spoke with Annette's voice._

_"Richter...?"_

_And then he did scream, in terror, in horror, in fear. The succubus pranced circles around him, swinging the severed head of his beloved even as it continued to feebly croak his name..._

He awoke with a horrified cry, muffled by a peal of thunder that had struck at the same time. He sat up in bed, gripping the sheets tightly as he tried to still his rapidly beating heart, as he listened to the heavy rainfall that had suddenly set upon the village. Beneath the harsh pitter-patter he thought he heard another sound. A sound like hoofs upon the road, a rider rushing in haste to get out of the sudden downpour. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing he was trembling. A terrible foreboding had come over him, chilling him to the bone. In an instant, he was donning his clothes, throwing a cloak over his shoulders and grabbing Vampire Killer before rushing out into the street.

There was a light in the window as he ran towards the Reynard family's home, but something else was out there, lying collapsed before the stairs. Maria crouched beside a misshapen figure while the rest of her family stayed indoors, watching fearfully through the window. He caught the last snags of conversation as he approached.

"... out of n-nowhere... t-they... they... killed my partner... the horses..."

"My sister!" Maria's voice was shrill with fear. "What about my sister?!"

"The lady... I... saw her d-dragged away by the... the wolves. I... I could d-do nothing... to s-save her..."

Richter suddenly realized that the bloodied mess of a man before him was one of the mercenaries that had accompanied Annette little over a day ago. His horse lay dead a little way from the house. He had dragged himself to the doorstep to deliver his message.

"T-they came... s-so so fast..." he rasped. "Three big demons... a-and there was... a woman with them..." He coughed, bringing up blood. "F-forgive us... we... could not..." A moment later he shuddered, falling limp in Maria's supporting arms. She raised her head, noticing Richter for the first time, her eyes wide and filled with tears.

"Richter..." she whispered, her voice barely audible above the stinging rain and the grumbling thunder. "He... he said that they were ambushed. That..." tears spilled down her cheeks, she could not bring herself to say the words that the soldier had relayed to her, but he already knew.

Something terrible had happened upon the traveler's road. The succubus' sharp laughter, the severed head's soft words… he knew that it had come to pass. The she-demon's words echoed in his head as he fell to his knees beside Maria, trembling with shock and terrible realization.

_Revel in it, Belmont! She is DEAD!_

* * *

Did the succubus get a bit _too_ caught up in her revelry there? I wasn't sure.

Nonetheless, reviews fill me with a warm sense of joy. They are the very essence that I must feast on in order to keep my creative drive going. So give me love. And any critiques you might have. Thank you~


	5. Vow

DISCLAIMER: Blah blah blah Castlevania blah bla blah don't own etc blah. etc etc etc Yaoi blah blah I WARNED YOU etc.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: As promised, I submitted chapter 5 today. Anyone who watched me on LJ would know that xD;  
Secondly, forgive me for taking so long with it! D: Between applying for University and getting insanely butthurt over my artwork, I never found the time to get on with this chapter. Also, I was very lazy. I'm so, so sorry, I'll try not to let it happen again ._.

Not too sure how I feel on this chapter. I get the impression I've lost the plot a little, but that might just be from not reading/writing this fic in so long. Hopefully I've done ok. But I'll leave that up to you~  


* * *

_Vow_

In the early hours of the morning, when the rain had slowed to a thin downpour, he had saddled up a horse and rode off with a small party of others to prove the mercenary's tale true with their own eyes. The hired sword and his horse had been taken away and given a proper Christian burial; the villagers sent words out to the other towns, informing them of the ill tidings on the road, searching for any family that the mercenaries had.

Maria watched the events silently from beneath the sheltered roof of her porch, gazing silently up at the grey sky, the muddied roads. To have her sister suddenly and terribly stolen from her... her entire family was grieving. But she knew more than them, Richter would be mourning and blaming himself. She needed to speak to him when he returned from the road... returned from the scene of Annette's death.

She closed her eyes, willing the tears to go away.

--

It was late morning when Richter found himself standing before a pile of splintered wood and equine bodies in the stinging rain. The men who had accompanied him sat on their horses a short distance away; a few of them were hurriedly crossing themselves. He almost sneered, looking back at them. There was no evil here; that had gone a long time ago the previous evening, taking his beloved's soul with it. Most of the blood had been washed away; the carriage itself had been smashed open as it had been driven into a ditch, the horses that had perished were filled with deep claw rents, the flesh torn from their bodies in large chunks. He recognized the work of werewolves. All around the wreck in the thick mud of the road were paw prints. Large, lupine prints, the horseshoe crescents of the mercenaries' mounts, and another set; someone's boot prints that did not resemble anything the hired swords had been wearing nor the rustic shoes of the coachman.

The rain was fast dissolving the tracks, but he knew he could not follow them now. Not with this group of fools watching him. Something about these men made him feel uneasy; a few he had been lifelong friends with, yet they all looked towards him with fear and mistrust. He ignored it, pushing the feelings down and trying to numb himself to the terrible scene before him. Such a torrent of emotion coursed through his body; anger mingled with sadness mingled with hatred and a desire for revenge. These beasts had been sent on behalf of the dark power that sought to take him once again. He wanted to resist in the most violent possible manner, but his fear held him at bay. Richter never again wanted to feel that cold touch or the chilling embrace that accompanied it. He carefully stepped into the ruined carriage, noting scraps of cloth caught on the wood, blood staining the floor where the rain had not yet touched. Something glimmered beneath the slashed and ruined seat; he stooped to pick it up.

It was a ring, a keepsake he had given Annette long ago when he had still been trying to win her heart. A simple gold band with a simple green stone embedded in it. He felt tears coming to his eyes and knew that despite her cold words, her crippling fear, this keepsake had assured that she would never have forgotten him. Perhaps there had been something left when doubt and terror had pushed her to run. But now she was gone, far away where he could not follow; he would never be able to ask her...

He slipped it into his pocket, silently vowing that he would hunt down every man, every beast that had been part of this massacre and see them killed by his own hand. Wiping his eyes and shaking wet hair out of his face, he returned to the team of men, softly ordering them back to the village. The hired sword had not lied. Annette was well and truly gone. They were to be the bearers of such awful news.

His sorrow was immense, but greater than that was the anguish and the fear. Slowly but surely, the darkness was closing its heavy hand around his heart. Soon all he would have were his memories.

--

"How much longer must we put ourselves in danger? Hark to me, this madness must end."

Maria's ears pricked up at those words, yet she kept her head down and her cloak wrapped close about her body. She was browsing the market stands in the heart of their small town, surprised to find a group of villagers gathered beneath the awning of one of the local inns. Why they had not taken refuge within, she did not understand. Perhaps they had thought they would be less suspicious out in the cold.

She lowered her head a little further as she stopped to inspect a stand of fruit, inching closer to the group so that she could hear better. A cold feeling of dread had made itself known in the pit of her stomach. Something about these people made her worry. It was unlike the villagers to cluster so, as though they had some dark secret to hide.

"Have you not heard the news? Another one of our own has fallen to the demons of hell. None other than Richter Belmont's own wife." The speaker was a large man, stoutly built with a weathered face and a deep red beard. "Do you have any idea why this is?"

"I heard him screaming the eve she ran away." Someone murmured. "He shrieked like a demon. He was summoning them."

"Richter Belmont has been calling to the demons for a while now." Came another voice. "Why do you think he offered to wander the village and patrol the forest? Ah, he says he does it to protect us, but what is he really doing? Calling the demons down to feast on our children and quench their thirst on our blood!"

"He is a sorcerer, a witch! We should never have let him back into the village. Those that enter the cursed castle should never return."

Throughout this exchange, as the crowd's voice rose into a hushed babble of folk retelling their own versions of Richter's sin, the red bearded man nodded in agreement. Maria's eyes widened as she listened to these people talk; men and women who had lived alongside Richter for many years, who had once been proud to call themselves friends of the Belmont family... how could this be? How could one small misfortune suddenly become Richter's fault? Their words horrified her.

"Listen to me." The red-beard stood and waved his hands to hush the crowd around him. "We have endangered ourselves and our children long enough. We must put an end to this demon and his foul ways." He grinned in satisfaction as a murmur of agreement broke out among the people. "First he summons a bear from the forest and offers my son as a sacrifice. Then he dreams of his wife's death. When his wife abandons him, he summons wolves to kill her! What kind of unnatural monster are we living amongst? This has to end now!"

"You forget that Belmont is a powerful man, even amongst our small society." Someone piped up. "Tell us, Franz, how do you propose we go about ridding ourselves of him? Surely it will not be an easy task. What if his hell demons come after us when he is gone?"

The red-beard narrowed his eyes as though seeking out the speaker with his angry gaze. "We do not give him the chance to call to them." He said softly. "Hark to me. We must never let him suspect that we intend to be away with him. In this weather he cannot burn at the stake. We cannot take him by force, for he is sure to call the devil to his aid." He looked around suspiciously and Maria quickly turned her head back to her purchase. She felt as though he must have seen though, for he lowered his voice.

"I shall get Samuel to come to you this evening. I need time to think on what we must do, what measures must be taken. Above all else Belmont must suspect nothing." He bowed his head. "Now go. Speak of this to nobody. Go."

As Maria paid for her produce and shuffled off back into the main street, the group beneath the tavern awning slowly broke up and shifted on, once again villagers going about their daily business, hurrying away to avoid the pouring rain. She drew her cloak tightly around herself, feeling an immense rage at these people, these fools that had accepted Richter's protection and never once doubted his status in the past. These fools that now believed he was the source of all misfortune, of all evil that had come to pass in the land. How could they?! She had seen the men and women that had once called themselves Richter's friends, saw their scared faces; none of them had stood up for him, nor doubted the words of the liars and the fearful. Just as Annette had gone, they too had turned away from the Vampire hunter and would never look back.

But to kill him?!

She hurried back to her home, fretful and worried. She must find Richter before he re-entered the village. His life was in grave danger.

--

The small party journeying home in the light downpour was surprised to find a very frantic and worried young woman rushing towards them as they neared the village. Maria was rain drenched, mud spattered, and the look in her eyes was enough to send a stab of worry into each rider's heart as they saw her.

"Maria." One called. "What is it? Has something happened in the village?"

The way her head snapped up, the way her eyes surveyed everyone carefully and almost suspiciously only served to worry the scouting party even further. However, when she spoke, it was in her normal, calm voice.

"Where is Richter? I need to speak with him. It's very important."

The young men looked at each other, wondering what could possibly be so urgent that she had to leave the village and come pelting out into the rain to meet them. There was momentary silence and a few of the riders looked over their shoulders back down the road.

"The village is safe, is it not? There haven't been any beasts ransacking the place? The way you look Maria, coming after us like this… I'm afraid it has unsettled us some." The rider waved his hand back at the path they had come along. "Richter is back that way. He is a little slow in coming… something seems to be weighing on his heart."

"And no small wonder!" Maria snapped in reply. "He has just lost a wife, you fool!" She gasped a moment later, lifting one hand to her mouth. "Oh my, forgive me sir." She added, face flushing. "I'm afraid that I have recently lost a sister too…" she sighed, looking down at the muddy road. "In answer to your question, the village is fine. It is just that I have something very important to discuss with Richter… I'd like to do it as soon as I can. Please, go on ahead." A few nimble steps and she was standing at the road's edge, out of the way of the horses and their riders. "Forgive me for alarming you so."

"Take care, Maria." One of the men chuckled as they rode past. She only smiled and nodded as they went on their way before turning to look back at the rain churned mud of the road.

It was a full five minutes before Richter appeared, plodding slowly along on his mount, his face masked by the hood of his cloak. She could tell by his stooped shoulders, by his general lack of stance that the news he had found had been the news they had both been dreading. He didn't even look up as he passed her, just continued on his bland, silent way, too absorbed in his own miserable thoughts.

"Richter!"

She dashed after him, relieved when he stopped and carefully dismounted. Within the hood of his dark cloak, his eyes seemed dull and blank. There was no fierce spark, no aura of pride and power that usually surrounded him. He blinked a few times, staring at her silently.

"What do you need, Maria?" His voice was barely audible above the pitter patter of the rain. "As you can see, the news is just as true as he told us." Heavy lids closed over deep blue orbs. He looked so tired.

"I… figured as much." She murmured softly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "But Richter, you must listen to me. I heard terrible things today while I was at Market." She waited until those dull blue eyes had turned to look at her. "The villagers are growing restless. There is talk of wanting to do away with a witch..." she trailed off worriedly, looking back up at him. "Oh Richter, you must be careful!" She cried suddenly, startling him. "I'm afraid! Afraid that they will want to kill you!"

If she had expected a reaction, she received none. He gazed at her with a slight frown, then slowly shook his head.

"Like a dog that has finally outlived its usefulness. No man will stand and remember him for guarding the terrified flock, of beating the wolves back when they would have preyed on the innocent. No, they will not remember him for that. They only see what a waste of space he has become." He sighed sadly. "Maria, do not worry about me. Unlike an old dog, I am the only Vampire hunter for miles and miles around. If they rid themselves of me, who will protect them? Their fear will keep them at bay."

"It has thus far, but what of the future?" Maria hissed. "Fear may one day overrule logical reason and I worry that day will be soon. Please Richter! Promise me you'll keep yourself safe!"

Her concern for him warmed his heart. A faint smile crossed his lips as he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for your concern, Maria." He said softly. "Worry not. I do not think that they will ever come to a desperate conclusion or take such drastic measures against me. Even if they feel threatened, they are human. Surely they realize that I am human too."

Even as he pulled away and mounted his horse again, he could see the fear in Maria's eyes. She did not believe a word of his speech, and he knew it. He was uneasy himself about his fellow villagers as of late, but nothing could be done. He was a hunter of vampires and monsters, he refused to turn Vampire killer onto another man. He rode back to his own home and locked the door behind him. Right now he wanted nothing more than to be alone with his thoughts and lose himself to the deep abyss of sleep.

--

"_We can wait no longer, if we are to act, we must act now!"_

"_Burn the witch! Set fire to his den so he can no longer flee!!"_

"_If he runs, cut him down. Cut him down before he can summon his devils to aid him. Go! Go quickly!"_

It had been five days since the terrible news. Richter's mind had been occupied with nothing more than eating, sleeping and extracting a revenge he knew would never be. He had barely left his home except to buy food, and when he was out in the streets with his tired eyes and ghost of a smile, the villagers watched him with wide eyes; most hurried away from him. He found he no longer cared about such things. Why couldn't they understand? He was grieving, just as Maria and her family were grieving. But while people hurried to the Reynard home to offer words of encouragement, nobody came to his with even an 'I am sorry for your loss'. Even Maria had been away for some time, too caught up with her own family. He would be lying if he said he did not miss her.

His dreams had been jumbled, filled with fire and smoke and laughter. Wolves prowled the dark corners of his mind, grunting and howling and startling him into wakefulness time and time again. This night seemed no different. The rain that had pattered overhead for the longest time had finally quieted a day before, but the miserable gloom it had brought with it remained. He was trapped in a room, clawing at the stone walls that surrounded him whilst choking smoke poured through a vent. He gagged and coughed, feeling a terrible heat, twisting and trying to escape it…

A tinkle of glass startled him into wakefulness, and he immediately sat up and gasped for air. A moment later he regretted it; his entire room was filled with smoke and the roar of a fire was not far behind. The heat was almost unbearable; how long had this fire burned within? Half asleep and confused, he nonetheless rolled to the floor, looking around wildly as another firebrand smashed through his window.

"_Surround the building! Make sure he doesn't get away!"_

The voices barely registered in his head as he seized Vampire killer and looked around. The firebrand had landed close to his bed, catching a bed sheet in tongues of flame. It would not be long before the entire room was ablaze. He had to get out.

As he crawled toward the nearest window, he couldn't help but wonder why. Maria had told him to keep on his guard, and he had. However, Richter had expected a confrontation, a stoning, a hanging. Exile, maybe. He had never thought they would try to roast him within the walls of his own home…

Glass shattered as he swung the holy whip at his window. An instant later, he was slipping out of the broken frame and rolling through the grass. Someone cried out as they recognized him, but before they could react with whatever weapon they had on hand, he was on his feet again and running. Disbelief clouded his features as he ran, dodging through the dark streets, skidding on rain slicked stones. He could not tell whether they chased after him or not, all that mattered right now was running away. Fleeing for his life. He headed for the forest, knowing full well that in the darkness they would not follow him there. They were superstitious fools, terrified fools. If he disappeared into the trees, he knew they would not follow.

And so he ran. While his house burned and most of the village slept, he disappeared. The men chasing after him soon lost heart and returned to report to Franz, their words bitter on their tongues as they told the red beard of the hunter's escape.

"You have doomed us all." He hissed. "Now that he is back in his element, he will send wave upon wave of devils to us! We shall not be able to defend ourselves!!!"

But as Franz yelled and abused his men, Richter stood on the edge of a copse of trees, watching sadly as one house flickered bright as a candle flame, wrapped in crimson and gold. He watched as his home burned to the ground, along with all the memories he had known and loved. Annette was gone, unavenged. And now his life and livelihood were gone with it. Vampire Killer was cold in his hand. His blood and legacy were all that he had left in this cruel, cruel world.

An anguished cry tore itself from his lips. He threw his head back and wept once again for everything he had lost.  


* * *

I'm sorry Richter. You know I don't mean to bishie bash you this hard and I promise I'll get better ;-;

R&R, darlings! Tell me how I'm doing


	6. Wandering

DISCLAIMER: I don't own castlevania. This fanfic was M'd for a reason. Yaoi will be floating about in later chapters. I warned you, so there.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: AGH. FORGIVE ME. I had a little mishap with my flash drive that resulted in it burning a massive hole in its plastic casing and now it no longer works. I stick it in the compy and it doesn't register, so I can't do anything with it. I took it to two electrical stores and neither of them could recommend me anyone who could fix it for me. Seeing as I had stored everything on there, including _Moonlight_'s chapters, I had the idea that if I could get it repaired, I could finish the small remainder of Chapter 6 I had, then carry on as normal. As you might be able to tell, this never happened. Joachim is STILL fried and everything I had on there was not backed up, so is gone and lost forever. Please accept my apologies; I was depressed that I'd lost so much art and fic that I lost the drive to write for a while ;A;

As for in-chapter notes: Juste. I just can't see a direct semblance between him and Richter, so I have always classified him as 'grandfather' rather than just 'father'. Also, I realize Annette and Richter might not have grown up together and he most certainly didn't seem to recognize Maria when he saved her in the Dracula X Chronicles, which is strange since he'd been dating her sister for a while xD;  
This is also perhaps the last we'll see of Maria in this tale.  
Thirdly; are there deer in Walachia? ._____.;

Nonetheless, forgive my long absence, read and enjoy~

* * *

_  
Wandering_

Dawn's grey light fell upon a scene of ruin as the night flew away upon black feathered wings. Where Richter Belmont's house had once stood, only a scattering of blackened timbers and soft ash remained, a thin plume of smoke rising slowly to the heavens. The villagers woke, looked upon this scene of desertion and felt a shame in their hearts. Though many of them had grown to fear Richter, they believed that the actions Franz and his men had taken were too drastic, too cruel. As loathe as they were to admit it, the fire had cost them the most powerful member of their community and now… now nobody would know what would come bat-shrieking out of the night to haunt them and terrorize them; whether it was a natural monster sensing the leave of the Belmont's presence, or a horde of hell dwellers sent by the witch himself.

The charred bones of Richter's former home were a dark blemish upon their small village, a chilling reminder that they had marked him. He would never return. And their knowledge of this made their fear increase tenfold. Richter Belmont was gone and he would never look back. No man would guard them now. Never again would they sleep safely.

Maria and her family were amongst those who believed in Richter's innocence, who felt a great anger at what Franz had done. Even as everyone had gathered to publicly humiliate the man and his followers, she stood back at a safe distance and watched with cold disdain. No matter how much they berated Franz for his folly, their words were meaningless if it would not bring Richter back. She lowered her head, leaning against the wall of a nearby building as the village headman's voice carried over the gathered crowd, his words angry and fierce. This was terrible. First the bear had come and killed Franz's son. Then the wolves had stolen Annette and done away with her. Richter had been grieved by both occurrences, but it had seemed as though she were the only one who could see that. See his pain and sorrow and fear. All that the others had seen was a barrier to place between themselves and the night terrors, and once they thought themselves safe, they had cast him aside.

She closed her eyes, willing the tears not to fall. Annette was gone. And now Richter was gone too. He had not perished in the flames, she knew him well enough to know that mere fire would not hinder his escape. But where was he now? Was he well? Was he injured? She could not help but worry and fret over him. Raising her head, she looked back to where the villagers were gathered in the main square and decided that now was as good a time as any to slip away unnoticed. She knew that he would remain close for a time, just to fully understand the situation and come to a solution, and in that time she knew she must find him.

She passed by his ruined home, still warmed by the dying embers, and after a moment's hesitation stepped over the threshold and began to search.

--

Richter knew the forest held no dangers, though practically everyone in the village would say otherwise. He had slept in peace and safety for the remainder of the night, though it had been a troubled sleep filled with shifting shadows and flickering tongues of fire. Upon waking, he had found that the wound in his leg was deeper than he first thought and had made his way down to a quiet stream to clean the gash and to wash the clinging scent of smoke from his body. He had lain on the bank after that, drying slowly in the dappled shadows, beneath a sky obscured by threatening rainclouds. The wind was chill, but he shrugged it off and it wasn't long until he was dressed again and once more wandering the forest.

He knew the area rather well, as he had been sent up here to search and search for imaginary demons the past few weeks. There had also been a time where he and Annette had been children, playing on the forest's outskirts with a very young, very indignant Maria chasing after them saying that her mother had insisted she join them on whatever adventure they were going on. As it was, the former resident vampire hunter, Juste Belmont, was often the one to enter the forest and rescue the trio when they got lost, or when Richter had gotten stuck in a tree or when someone had tripped and fallen into the stream. Such memories made him smile, fondly remembering his grandfather and his beloved as a child…

But those days were gone now. Remembering that brought the burden of sadness back to his heart, what he would do to have Juste's advice now, or to hold Annette close once again… he dashed the tears away, looking for the deer trail that would take him back to the forest's entrance. Not far from it would be a clearing, one that he often spent time in when he'd had free time once upon that long time ago. He would wait. He would decide what he wanted to do.

--

It was almost midday when he heard a rustling in the underbrush, a soft curse as someone stumbled over a hidden tree root. His hand had first strayed instinctively to Vampire Killer's handle, and then relaxed as he recognized the voice of his friend. A slight smile even ghosted across his lips for an instant; he had known she would come to search for him.

"Richter?"

"Over here, Maria."

She stumbled out from behind a large tree, her eyes meeting with a scene that surprised her. Richter in his night clothes, somewhat damp, resting his back against a smooth boulder with one leg stretched painfully out before him. His eyes were red, though whether from smoke or tears, she could not be certain. What surprised her the most was the calmness in his face, the faintest spark of determination in his eyes. She had expected to be confronted with a broken, weeping man, half wild with grief. Perhaps he had already passed this state of being during the night, perhaps he had yet to lose his mind. Either way, she let out a cry of relief and ran to his side, throwing her arms around his neck. He wrapped one arm around her, hugging her silently.

"I thought you were lost." She whispered. "It would have broken my heart if you had died as well as Annette. Oh Richter, I'm so glad… so glad…"

He smiled, warmed by her concern and embraced her tightly. "There is no need to worry about me so, Maria. Did you truly think that merely setting my house on fire would kill me? You underestimate me." His tone was grave but carried the hint of a jest. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.

"What has happened to you?" She asked finally, pulling away and surveying the large slash in his thigh. "I spent all morning worrying that you might be injured and when I find you, the worst has happened." She frowned. "Richter, can you not be more careful?"

"I was fleeing for my life." The hunter replied, watching her with crossed arms as she dug around in a pack she had brought with her and came up with a bandage and some healing salve. "I did not notice it until my panic and grief had worn down." It was just like her to berate him for hurting himself, completely ignoring the fact he would have died had he not been so daring. Had he been in a lighter mood he would have laughed.

She looked back at him, seeing his eyes were sad. Last night's memory was still fresh in his mind; it was still fresh in everyone's minds. Of course his heart would still be uneasy. He had lost everything in that fire…

"The villagers are so afraid now." She said softly, motioning that he should roll up his pants so she could have easier access to the wound. He did as he was asked silently, his expression unreadable. "They never expected Franz to act as he did. Half of them are afraid that now that you are gone, the monsters will come for them, the others fear that you shall send a legion of hell devils to our gates." She sighed. "Franz was berated before the village, but we all know he shall not suffer too great a punishment. Our village headman was amongst those who strongly believed you were a demon."

"I cannot understand what gives them that impression." Richter replied dryly. "I survived their trial of fire; it is proven that I am no witch." He frowned darkly. "I am lucky to have escaped from that alive. I never thought that they would stoop so low as to attack me in my sleep. To throw torches through my windows even, since the wood outside was too damp to burn… What have these people come to?"

"Their fear makes them bold." Maria replied softly, carefully binding his wound.

"But not bold enough." Richter replied. "I had expected them to band together and drag me to the gallows. To burn me, to stone me, perhaps even exile me. I never expected this." He ran one hand through his hair and sighed. Maria couldn't help but notice how exhausted he looked; mentally and physically. "What do I have left, Maria?" He asked softly. "I have lost my beloved, lost the memories of my home, lost my place among friends and society. What do I have left but my name and legacy?"

She looked over at him, watching silently as he idly toyed with a ring he had been wearing. A simple golden band embedded with a green stone. He looked so forlorn it tore at her heart.

"You haven't lost everything, Richter." She said softly. When he raised his head to look at her she carried on. "You have your health, your life. You still have a friend to stand by your side through all these hardships. You have your courage, your strength. As much as we've tried to ignore it, this cannot go on. Walachia is falling into darkness once again… and you are perhaps the only one to stand up to it."

The hunter gazed at her silently for a long time. "I had the same thoughts myself, last night." He said softly. "I realized that there would no longer be a place for me here in this village. I realized that I did not want others to suffer as I have suffered, to lose loved ones as Franz and I have. For that man to be driven to do what he did to me…" he shook his head slowly. "Anyone in his position would do the same. I am saddened it has come to this, and angry that he has made me suffer needlessly, but we are both grieving… others should not have to suffer what we have just because nobody would take charge and destroy those beasts that were running about the land." He looked over at her. "Walachia is indeed falling into darkness. I can do something about it. I shall, as long as I am able." A sigh parted his lips. "I was faced with the decision last night to let this madness continue. To travel to my relatives in the south and reside with them, but that would only delay these demons from catching up to me. Perhaps this is the harder path, but the innocent should not have to suffer at the hands of the mindless beasts. I could not allow them to. If I did, I would be failing my duty as a hunter, placing a blight upon the Belmont name."

Maria nodded. His honor was at stake and his heart was still deeply grieved. Yet he was so kind, even to those who would sooner see him destroyed. "You are a good man, Richter. But…" she hesitated. "You do not think that… _he_ is behind this, do you?"

The hunter visibly flinched and she regretted her words. He lowered his gaze and sighed heavily. "It is far too early to think such things, Maria. I pray to God that this is not his doing." He closed his eyes. "All I know is that I must stop these monsters. I'm sure there are others who can defend their own towns against these things. I shall go to where the helpless lie."

"Then I shall accompany you." She replied, her gaze filled with determination. "You cannot go out on your own. You are wounded."

The hunter smiled then, gentle and fond. "I knew you would say that." He said softly. "But listen to me, Maria. This…" he motioned to his now bound leg. "… is but a scratch. It will heal. And before you argue," He raised a hand as her mouth opened to protest. "You know as well as I do that your place is here. What would your family do if you, too, disappeared into the night without a farewell? They are grieving, Maria. They have lost a daughter. Would you really give them further cause of worry by running away? You are all they have left right now. You must stay with them and ease their hearts." He fell silent as the young woman lowered her head. "Worry not about me." He said softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Take care of them, and if you must, defend the village with all you have. I know you have the strength to. Can you promise me this?"

She raised her head slowly, sadness in her eyes. "I promise." She all but whispered. "But Richter… this… this means that you're…"

"I'm leaving. All on my own." He nodded. "Word travels fast and I need to be on my way before my death warrant appears in every town in Walachia. And…" he paused uneasily. "I know not if I shall ever return."

Maria lifted a hand to her lips to stop herself crying out. She had known this was inevitable, that Richter would one day walk out of the village and never return, but not like this. Not now. She had known after they had burned his house to the ground that he would not ever come back to them, she had steeled herself against this, but her eyes still filled with tears.

"I know." She finally whispered, letting her head sink into her hands. "I know, but oh Richter! It saddens me so. My closest friend leaving me…" she looked up at him, her face tear streaked. "It is so difficult to say goodbye."

"Partings are always difficult, Maria." He replied softly, placing an arm around her.

"But tell me…" she sniffed. "did you really intend to leave the village with naught but Vampire Killer and the clothes you sleep in?" She plucked at his garments. "I thought you had more taste, Richter."

The hunter looked down at what he was wearing. "I… you know as well as I do that I have no clothes to my name now. No possessions. I thought I might have been able to barter for some along the way…" he frowned, realizing his plight. "Don't tell me you have a solution to this dilemma of mine?"

Maria looked up at him, laughing through her tears. "Where would you be if you didn't have me to rely on, Richter Belmont? As it were, I do." She sat up, pulling the pack she had carried with her over to them and shifting through it once again. "Do you remember the last time we were together in that house of yours? It was in such a state of disarray that I took your laundry and did it for you over at my place. Of course, I found a few articles that needed mending and I forgot to return them to you…"

Richter blinked, half astounded half grateful as he stared at the garments she had pulled from the bag. His coat, the one he had worn day to day when he had roamed the village. A loose, white shirt and a pair of pale blue trousers. Maria had somehow even retrieved his shoes.

"How did I not realize these were missing…?" he wondered out loud, taking the cloth from her. He ignored her giggle and proceeded to limp behind a tree in order to change.

"You spent the past month in your bed." Maria sighed. "I was certain you wouldn't notice if I did anything… Even if I cleaned your home or did your laundry or restocked your pantry. I was so worried about you, I looked for any excuse to return." She smiled. "But now I am glad I did these things. You look like your old self again." She added as he stepped out from behind the concealing branches. Still, looking at him saddened her. He was still missing something; the man that stood across from her was merely a shell of a Belmont, lacking the strength and fire of life. For all the world, he looked just as he should, but there was still sadness in his eyes, a burden upon his shoulders. But still, he smiled. A true smile this time, a small ray of hope in the darkness that had entrapped his soul.

"I'm glad." He murmured softly, brushing dust from his sleeves. "I haven't felt myself in such a long time." He fell silent as she got up and went to him, dragging the pack along with her.

"This is also for you." She said, thrusting it into his hands. "There should be enough food and coin for you to make it to the next village and stock up on provisions there." She smiled up at him. "I knew there would be no other choice for you, Richter. That you would be leaving us one way or another. Please." She clasped his hand tightly. "Keep yourself safe so my heart can rest easy."

The hunter stared down at the pack, then back at her feeling more than a little moved. "Oh Maria…" he breathed, pulling her into a tight hug. "I am truly blessed to have you."

She gripped him tightly, wishing things did not have to be this way. That he did not have to go, that Annette had not died. Their world had been at peace for two small years, and now Chaos had once again come into their lives and torn them all apart. Annette was dead, Richter branded as a demon. She was amazed that she had not been marked as an accomplice for being so close to him, but perhaps this was just God's grace working in its mysterious way. Richter would now leave on a journey to redeem himself, to find the cause of this sudden stream of monsters and put an end to it or die trying. She found tears flowing down her face again. Partings were always so hard.

He broke their embrace, brushing her tears away with a gentle hand. "This may be the last time I ever see you." He said softly. "Do you really want my parting image of you to be like this? Maria, I know you are strong. Can you not smile for me?"

She sniffled, batting his hand away, the corners of her lips already lifting in spite of herself. "Hush! You in turn must promise to take care of yourself out there, Richter. Don't make me worry. Please."

"You have my solemn and sincere word, Maria." He clasped her hand warmly in his own. His face was so grave, his expression so serious, that even as she stared up at him she felt her lip trembling. But she refused to let herself cry any longer. She would not let the hunter see her tears; she would be brave as he had asked. They embraced tightly once more before he pulled gently away.

"Never forget me." He said softly. "Never forget my words. I have been truly blessed to have known you, to fight alongside you, to trust my back to you. For all that its worth, you are truly my dearest, closest friend." To her utmost surprise, he leaned close and brushed his lips against her cheek. "I thank you. And I pray that one day we may meet again."

And with that he had turned away, stepping lightly out of the clearing and heading away down the deer track away from the village. And Maria watched him go, hand raised to her cheek, until she no longer heard the soft crackle of leaves and twigs underfoot. Sadness filled her heart; she knew he might never walk this way again.

"Farewell, Richter." She whispered, blinking back tears. "Be safe upon this long journey, along the path that God has chosen for you. I pray for your safety now and forever, as I pray that you and I shall meet again someday."

--

High on a knoll, touched by the mid-morning sun, two figures stood watching. From their vantage point, Walachia was spread before them, yet their eyes were focused away from the small villages and the busy traveler's roads. Two pairs of eyes; one golden, one red; rested upon the outskirts of the forest, taking in the sight of a lone figure weaving in and out of the sparse trees.

"_And so it begins, my lady bat…" _The voice was a light, rich tenor; soft and musical, with the barest hint of an aristocratic whine. "_Now he is in our hands."_

_

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_: o  
R&R for me, your comments fuel my writing drive.


	7. Vanquish

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania. I don't get any profit out of writing this. It is solely for my enjoyment and your enjoyment. You'd better enjoy it. Also, there's yaoi in here. Its about time I started catering to the fans, however brief it may be. Just don't go 'OMGYAY, GROPAGE' or I'll discontinue the fic -anger-

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Long chapter is long. Like holyshit, I should have cut that bit at the end off D: I'm desperately hoping I haven't portrayed Alucard differently from what I had in the first chapter, so a little nervousness over that. Secondly I feel that the ending to this chapter was sort of rushed and I'm not all too happy at how I introduced the antagonist. Bah.  
Thirdly, Arachne! Yay for monsters!  
Lastly, I've made you go six chapters with no sexual content whatsoever. So here's a teaser for being patient with me. Its not much because I'm not confident, but yay. Joy. I'm doing my best. Thank you for sticking out with me thus far and I hope I can write more for you in the future.

Do read on~

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_Vanquish_

"_Help me…"_

The soft, plaintive cry broke the stillness of the evening air, the full moon above silvering the landscape below. The clink of chains accompanied that mournful sound, heavy and resisting.

"If anyone is out there! Help!! Please!!"

The voice was familiar to his ears, but he couldn't help but feel a faint sense of unease. Yet the cry sounded sincere and he knew he could not ignore it. A soft flash of silver and the Alucard sword was drawn from its scabbard, a swirl of black and he was hurrying through the trees, seeking out the source of the cry. His footfalls were all but silent on the carpet of fallen leaves and loose twigs, he moved without a sound. It was not long before he found himself on the edge of a clearing, witnessing a strange and cruel sight.

There was a man trussed and bound in chain, his back up against a tree as he struggled fruitfully. Watching him with cruel red eyes was none other than a lycanthrope, its restless pacing betraying its hunger. Slavering jaws opened and snapped shut, a soft whine emitting from the werewolf's throat. In its state, it would not last much longer before it grew weary of watching its prisoner and leap for the kill.

Yet it was the man that made the dhampire's pulse race with recognition and astonishment; those dark locks and fierce eyes were all too memorable. This man was a Belmont, the very same one that had haunted his sleep and brought about his awakening. Deep blue eyes gazed on in hatred as he strained at his bonds again and once more cried out for help. The werewolf was obviously fighting between its task and its instinct and finally, maddening hunger won out. With a snarl, it lunged for the man.

Alucard did not hesitate. A warning shout was all that the werewolf heard, red eyed head turning in surprise to see a flash of silver steel in the moonlight. And then its body was slumping forward to the ground, its head rolling off to the side. There was another soft swish as he flicked blood from his blade, head turning and golden eyes set upon the captive man, soft lips parting in frosty speech.

"… are you harmed?"

Deep blue eyes rose to meet his own and again the dhampire couldn't help but feel that something was terribly wrong with this scenario. A smirk appeared across those full lips as Belmont surveyed him.

"I am fine, thanks to you." He murmured, watching the dhampire as Alucard stooped to retrieve a set of keys that had fallen from the dead beast's claws. "I thought I would die here… those wolves surprised me as I was on my way to the next town…" he trailed off as the dhampire approached, quickly trying each key in the locks of his shackles. It wasn't long before they had slipped from his wrists and he was standing, rubbing the feeling back into his limbs.

"… You should take more care." There was a bitter undertone to the dhampire's voice, golden eyes piercing the hunter with something akin to contempt. Try as he might, he could feel no joy in his heart at finding Belmont, the sick sense of unease was only growing more and more by the moment. "The creatures of darkness grow stronger with each new moon. I would assume this is the reason you are out here, so far away from home?"

"…Perhaps."

The reply was soft, almost sly in its tones. Even as one calm, silver eyebrow arched in question, Belmont had nimbly stepped forward and bridged the gap between them, one hand lifted to caress the dhampire's pale cheek. "There is another reason I have come a-walking through the night. Would you believe I was searching for you, Alucard?"

He could not disguise his soft gasp of surprise as he instinctively jerked back away from that light touch. His pulse sped up at the words; they could not possibly be sincere. "Do not play games with me, Belmont." He growled softly as the other man drew closer still; one arm about the dhampire's waist, the other hand pressed to his chest, fingers trailing over the fine detail of his vest. Deep blue eyes were seductive and pleading as Belmont drew even closer, their faces inches apart.

"Can you not believe me? This is no game I play." Belmont seized hold of the Alucard's cloak suddenly, pulling him close so that his own body was effectively sandwiched between the tree and the dhampire. Chest to chest and hips to hips, he smiled up at the bewilderment struggling with a deeper, darker emotion in Alucard's eyes.

"I came out this night to find you." He whispered, one hand releasing the heavy cloak to trail softly, slowly down the dhampire's chest. "Can you not feel it? My heart and my body have yearned for you." The soft smile had widened into a seductive grin; there was a light in his eyes that unnerved the other man even as Belmont's fingers passed lightly over the belt at his waist. A shiver passed through his body and he was barely able to suppress a moan as the hunter's hand dipped between the fork of his legs in a firm but gentle caress. "I want no other to give me release." Belmont's voice was but a whisper. "I want you, Alucard." Without another word, he leaned close, crushing his lips to the dhampire's own, and Alucard did not resist. He was so close against Belmont's body; he could feel the heart fluttering in that breast, the budding arousal in the other man's loins. His own body was alight with the sensations, yet he did not even reciprocate the kiss; merely stood, moonlit and cold, pressed to the hunter's form.

"You lecherous worm." He murmured against the other man's mouth. "Such pitiful advances would never move me."

Even as the hunter's blue eyes locked with his own in question, he had drawn one arm back and thrust the Alucard sword forcefully up into the other's body. He drove the blade through the heart and further still until the shrieking, twisting form was pinned to the tree behind it. And with its agony and dying throes, the creature masquerading as Richter Belmont was revealed; a beautiful young woman with death pale skin and limpid black wings. She screamed, she struggled, but her life's blood was gushing through the wound in her breast. It was not long before her cries died and her brilliant eyes became blank and glassy. Her body slumped, but held upon the sword as it was, it did not fall.

And golden eyes full of anger faded to ones of pain and dismay. Alucard dropped to his knees, breathing heavily, heart beating furiously in his chest.

--

Spiders, they had said. Spiders the size of a man, some bigger still, infesting a small village that was a five day's trek away.

They were a terrifying sight, with the faces of women, calm and serene in the darkness of the forest until the unwary strayed near. Then eyes would open in the strangest places on their foreheads, their lips would twist into disfigured grins displaying row upon row of sharp, pointed teeth. Out of the gloom they would step on dark, shaggy legs; for from the waist up they appeared human, but below that their bodies were those of a massive arachnid. They ensnared their prey with strong, sticky silk that not even the hardiest blade could snap, bound them coil by coil in the sticky substance and then left them to hang in their webs.

There were only two instances where the spiders' intended victims had escaped and even they had not lived long enough to tell their tale. Once bitten by a spider, one would be overcome with illness, the body would bloat and the victim would die screaming in agony. If the corpse was not burned within hours of the death, multitudes of little spiders would spring from the body and wreak havoc upon everyone else in the surrounding area.

Precautions had been taken; those who wandered the forest for a living became outcasts, those suspected of being bitten were burned alive. Many times a villager had screamed witch and an innocent had perished at the hands of a mob, yet the spiders still lived on, still caused havoc in the forest. They had grown bold, striking in broad daylight, appearing on the plains and devouring all the livestock in sight, as well as any noble hunting dog that dare stand in their way.

Richter was horrified to hear this news. He had not expected anything so out of hand so early in his journey. But he had made his way to the town in question, resolving to put an end to these terrors. It had been a week since he had left his own village and he had already dealt with a reasonably harmless Poltergeist and rid one farm of the Imps that had plagued it. Grateful villagers had pointed him here, to this small plains community, but a village overrun by Arachne was going to be much harder to purge than one that had a little spirit throwing books and tables.

He had stopped by wayside churches along the travelers paths; thankfully the holy houses turned none away and did not ask questions, even when he requested vials of holy water and blessings over his weapons. They knew him to be a hunter, but he refused to reveal his name. They could simply picture him as another mysterious fool who thought he had what it took to purge the world of the monstrous sin that had come among humans. But unlike the mercenaries that had come before him, he had years of experience beneath his belt, and a knowledge of the monsters to boot. The Arachne feared fire above all else, and their spawn could easily be defeated by a sure foot and sturdy soled boot.

Of course, razing the surrounding forest to the ground probably was not the best of ideas. There were quite a few woodland houses in the area, and the villagers still needed the forest for forage and hunting. He knew this, and he had come prepared.

It was no surprise that small crowd of villagers had gathered by the main entrance to bar his way. Only the trade merchants would be coming this way now; and even then negotiations were held outside town walls. One bolder than the rest that huddled fearfully stepped forward, most likely the headsman, with scythe in hand. They were a simple farming village; they held only simple farmers tools. All the same, Richter knew to be wary; there was only one of him against a mob of them and if they thought him to be a devil, he did not want to resort to using Vampire Killer against fellow humans.

"Who be ye, stranger?" The man's voice was gruff and suspicious, his voice accented by a countryman's burr. "What business could ye possibly have here so far away from the main roads? Don't you know there's a plague o' spiders up in these parts? Ye can't just be on your way and leave us to die in peace?"

"I know of this plague very well..." Richter chose his words carefully. He was wearing a cloak to ward off the chill weather; it fell around him in folds, easily hiding his body as well as Vampire Killer at his waist. Though the whip was the ultimate bane of darkness, it could be used to identify him instantly. He did not know if news of his escape and potential 'bond with Satan' had reached this village, but he did not want to take any risks. "It is, in fact the reason I have come to you today, my good man."

"Another fool seeking to kill the spiders." The headman's tone was flat, his eyes narrowed darkly. "Don't bother stranger, they'll just be off with your head too. Then the bastards'll come for us. Aye, they've had more than their fill of manflesh, there were plenty of priests, hunters, poachers that thought they could do away with the beasts. As you can see, they've all failed and we live in constant fear that we'll be th' next thing they'll come after. Livestock's dwindled, we're afraid to go into the forest and forage for food... we barely get on enough. If the spiders don't finish us off, then I know for sure that hunger and terror will." He shook his head slowly. "We've long given up that there'll be someone to come and save us, stranger. Save yourself the grief and save us raising our hopes. You'll only end up as fodder for those she-devils anyway."

Richter was silent for a few moments, finally nodding. "Very well." He said finally. "Permit me to ask just a few questions then. We can do the negotiations right here, if you so wish. I offer you no empty words and no praise of my own abilities. I just need to know what truly lurks within."

--

It was late afternoon when he left the village, setting resolutely out towards the surrounding woodland. The villagers had remained wary and suspicious of him the entire time, but the information they had provided him with was more than helpful and had lightened his spirits considerably.

From their descriptions, they had all been looking at the same monstrous spider. There had only been one incident where a victim had been bitten and poisoned, and in their fear, the villagers had burned the corpse as soon as they were sure the man was dead. The tiny spiders that were said to sprout from the corpse, had indeed done so; but the poor soul's funeral pyre had consumed them in an instant. All the incidents had occurred on nights when the moon's glow was weak, the 'other spiders' that had been seen could easily have been the she-demon's victims wrapped in silk. The fact that they had only seen the retreating form of one spider in the fields while two or three sheep were missing did not necessarily mean that a group of the demons had attacked. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that there was only one crafty beast lying in wait for the next unwary human to step into her nest. And of course she would be larger than when she first set foot in the surrounding forest, there would have been animals aplenty for her to feast on. When those ran out, the hunters had appeared; and once all those had gone, she had ventured out into the open to feast upon the slow, docile livestock.

He was surprised that the villagers had not yet fled. They had resigned themselves to their fate and left it at that. Richter could only wonder what kept them from retreat... the area must have been important to them. It was a noble sentiment, but a foolish one nonetheless. By God's grace, they soon would have nothing more to fear. He would put an end to this she-devil soon enough.

There was only one thing that continued to confuse him. Where there was one Arachne, there generally was a community of the beasts gathered nearby. If things were indeed as everyone had described to him, there was one solitary spider in the forest. But why just one?

--

Two days later he found himself facing down the lair of the beast.

The forest itself would have unnerved a normal man. Once a calm place filled with vibrant life, it was now cold and dark. No birdsong sounded from the branches overhead, no animals scurried through the leaf loam below. Cold, sticky silk draped over each branch, the light that managed to filter in and illuminate Richter's path was weak, casting an eerie glow upon stunted plants and thorns, upon the bones of the Arachne's victims.

"_Aaah hunter, how I've waited for you..."_

His hand flew to Vampire Killer at his side. From the gloom up ahead stepped a monstrous creature, just as the villagers had described it.

Had she been human, she would have been quite beautiful. A golden haired young woman stared out at him with deep red eyes. She held her arms out, beckoning him closer. He merely stared back defiantly, Vampire Killer gripped tightly in hand.

"_I've grown hungry... so hungry... and mortal, you look so delicious..."_

She took another step forward; one long, hairy arachnid leg revealed in the weak light. A few steps more and her entire body became visible in the gloom. Eyes opened up in rows along her high forehead, her full lips splitting into a sinister grin revealing row upon row of sharp, needle-like teeth. Slender hands became claws and a feral hiss escaped her open mouth. Seven more legs followed the first in step, her entire lower body revealed. Thick black hair covered the legs and lower abdomen of a spider, adorned with red and purple markings. She let out a sound halfway between a moan and a roar and launched a sticky jet of silk at him.

He dodged aside easily, uncoiling the holy whip and lashing out at her, striking her hard across one lily pale arm. She shrieked in pain, lunging at him with claws outstretched. But Richter had turned on his heel and dashed through the trees, using Vampire Killer to hack his way through the undergrowth. He could hear the Arachne screaming and cursing behind him and once or twice he looked back over his shoulder to make sure she was still following him. He had a plan, but it involved luring the beast out into the open.

"_Be still, mortal! You shall pay for your insolence!!!"_

It was difficult to run and dodge away from the strands of clinging silk that she shot after him, but he managed. To be shot down by her web now would mean failure and certain death. He could not let that happen. So he continued to run, ducking and weaving through the trees and the underbrush, infuriating the creature by striking out at her limbs with hastily thrown iron crosses gathered from the wayside churches. Unlike most mercenaries, he knew how to tap into the power of the holy relics, to use them to his advantage. Every cross that flew into the shrieking she-demon sizzled her hair and scalded her flesh. But she was a large spider, grown fat upon the flesh of numerous hunters and animals. It would take more than just a normal attack to finish her.

The trees were thinning; the rolling hills that fed the local livestock were in sight. He ran for them despite a telltale throb in his leg. The wound had healed slowly due to his constant travel, and now it threatened to slow him even further. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the pain and focused on getting past the first hill, making sure the outraged spider was still running full tilt after him. He needn't go much further, he was almost clear…

He stopped suddenly, whirling to face the she-demon as she caught up with him. It took some desperate maneuvers to avoid the web she shot at him, but she was maddened by pain; her aim was sloppy. She bellowed her anger, claws outstretched, ready to tear him to shreds.

But he would have none of that. Acting quickly, he drew a small, circular phial from his belt and threw it at the screeching creature. It struck her squarely in the chest and shattered, spilling a clear liquid over her skin.

And instants later, that liquid had erupted into fierce, silvery-blue flames.

Her scream must have echoed across half of the continent. She reared up on her spider legs, clawing at her torso, trying her hardest to beat the flames out, to wipe the liquid from her skin, but Richter was relentless. A second phial shattered against her stomach, a third and fourth striking her abdomen. The fifth went wide of its mark, but she was already so consumed in flames that it did not matter. Richter stood back and watched, Vampire Killer gripped tightly in hand, as she writhed and screamed and beat at the fire engulfing her body.

Holy water did not react well to the flesh of evil. It was a pure liquid, a blessed liquid. It could warn against impending danger when used properly, but when thrown at a creature consumed with devil's power, its purifying effects could easily be seen. It seared the flesh and melted the bones of any creature that shunned God's grace, its black heart and tainted evil consumed by heaven's fire. And the Arachne that stood before him, thrashing and rearing, was slowly being dissolved by the holy substance. He need only one strong shot to finish it off.

He gave her no warning, he did not think she would have heard even if he had. All it took was a few sure steps and a fierce swing of the holy whip. It tore through her disintegrating midriff and one of her arms, causing her to screech twice as loud as before. She lay in the grass, both halves twisting and writhing; the spider half trying to desperately claw its way back to the dark forest, the human half dragging itself towards Richter, trying to cause one last damaging blow before it died. He flicked the whip once more, severing the head from the body and finally she lay in the throes of death, the holy fire consuming her body until nothing remained but a blackened circle of grass. _This_ was the reason he had not thrown the phials in the forest; he had not been sure whether the holy fire would purify web as well as beast, thereby causing the entire forest to burn. He looked over to where the creature's severed head lay a short distance away from the charred black circle; amazingly the head was mostly intact. Striking it off had put the fire out. With a frown he walked towards it and grabbed it by the hair. The face and its eight eyes were twisted in an expression of terror and pain.

--

The villagers had heard the inhuman screams, heard the spider shouting and cursing. They cowered in their homes and cursed the man that had come by that morning, stirring the creature into anger and rebellion. However, when the land fell silent again, they could not help but wonder what had become of them both; man and beast.

It was only when Richter limped into the village carrying the she-demon's head did they truly marvel at the feat performed. This man had to have been sent by god, an angel in disguise that had finally heard their prayers. His trophy was presented to the headman, the head nailed to the village gate so that it might ward off other evil spirits, warning them that there had been someone who held their own against the beast so they dare not try. Richter was given a room to rest in, his wounds were cleaned, his clothing mended and washed of webbing and debris from the forest. It would be a long time before the animals came back, but the sunlight would gradually dissolve the web that the spider had left behind. Plants would grow again, people would visit without fear. He had their thanks, their gratitude and that was enough. They had recognized him, but after such hardship as they had faced, they could not believe that he was anything more than a hunter for the righteous. They would not say that Richter Belmont had been in their village.

He had kept to his word. He offered no promises or high praise of his abilities. He had not given them hope, yet he had saved them all. They were truly grateful. His work was done. While the villagers slept peacefully for the first time in months, Richter slipped silently out of his room, shouldered his pack and went on his way.

The moon was waning when he found himself upon the traveler's road. It would not be long before the sun rose, traffic through here would increase, and he would have to return to the lesser known paths. He had rested after his battle and he felt renewed, though his sleep had been peppered with unpleasant dreams. The villagers had not heard news from the other towns in so long, they would not be able to aid him in finding the next beast that plagued mankind. His leg throbbed dully as he walked; he knew he would have to take it easy over the next few days.

He touched his thigh lightly and sighed. One would have thought the wound would heal… he supposed he _had_ been pushing himself more than he should have, he would end up with a scar at this rate…

Something on the road caught his attention, a something that seemed to burn crimson in the watery moonlight. He tensed, placing a hand on Vampire Killer's handle in case it proved to be some monster. But no, it was human shaped, dressed flamboyantly; an aristocratic dandy clad in a luscious maroon coat, pinstripe vest and simple wool trousers. A cravat of lace adorned the slender throat, a pair of spectacles sat upon the long nose. This being was effeminate in face, slender in build but was quite obviously male. A shock of red hair fell about his soft shoulders, a pocket watch swinging from one hand, the nails fine and filed to a point. Almost like claws. Richter wondered who he was and what he was doing on the road at such a time.

"_Good evening, traveler."_ Red eyes snapped up, gaze piercing his own. _"Ah, its you! I had so hoped I would meet you here tonight upon this road…"_

"Me?" He replied, confused. "What do you want with me?"

"_Come a little closer so you and I may speak…" _The red haired gentleman smiled, beckoning to him. Richter did not like the look in his eyes. They were too dark, too cunning. _"Come now, I won't bite. I just want to congratulate you on your spectacular victory today."_

"My victory…?" Richter tensed. "Wait… How is it that you know of that? I have sworn the villagers to secrecy; word could not possibly get out so fast! Who are you?! What is your true intention?" His body had automatically assumed a fighting stance, Vampire Killer in his hand. He would not attack this man unless the other struck first, but he had a terrible sense of foreboding just watching this individual.

"_Because." _The man spoke slowly as though he were speaking to an idiot. _"I was, quite simply, watching you my dear Belmont."_ He brushed dust from his sleeve, pausing to look at his pocket watch. _"And I am merely here to give you a warning. That pitiful Arachne is nothing compared to the horrors in the heart of Walachia. Turn back. Go home, to people that want you and allow the world to fall slowly into ruin." _He grinned, and Richter was horrified to see four pointed fangs amongst his pearly teeth. A vampire? Here? _"You are just a man, Richter Belmont. You cannot stop our onslaught on your own."_

"Monster!" He roared. "You were the one who set that beast upon the village!"

"_No. I did no such thing. How do you expect a man like myself to summon creatures from the abyss of hell? I am not so talented." _He frowned. Richter realized he was genuinely bitter about not being able to do such a thing. To take pleasure in sending monsters to wreak havoc upon humankind… this man was sick.

"Who are you?" Richter growled softly.

"_Ah, how rude of me." _The other man chuckled. _"My name is Marcel Blackmoore."_ The hunter shivered at the sudden change in attitude. One moment he was laughing and chiding, the aristocratic whine dominating his voice. Now he looked into serious crimson eyes, darkened with anger and hatred. Blackmoore was suddenly holding himself like nobility itself, his stance suggesting power and control. _"And I am to be the destroyer of your life and livelihood. You are just a dog of the church, fighting for a cause that cannot win. Lie down, roll over and submit, and perhaps I shall save you from the flames of judgment."_

Who _was _this man to think that he could spit such an insult? Richter glared at him contemptuously, freeing Vampire Killer from his belt.

"_Do you think to fight me, mortal?"_ Blackmoore laughed. _"I would dearly love a skirmish with you, but now is neither the time nor place." _He shut his watch with a startlingly loud snap. _"There's business to attend to. And the beast is right on time…"_

"What have you done?!" Richter shouted, eyes widening as Blackmoore arched, something monstrous moving beneath the cloth on his back. He could only stare in surprise and horror as two blood red wings tore holes through the back of his coat, the sound escaping the dandy's lips one of ecstatic pleasure. Within an instant, Blackmoore had taken to the sky, with a final parting jibe in Richter's direction.

"_You had better hurry, Belmont! The forest ahead is fraught with danger, the beast within runs mad! My poor creature hasn't fed for days… and not even _you_ will be able to stand up to him!!!"_ Laughing madly, he disappeared amongst the clouds.

Not long after, a maiden's scream rent the chill night air. Fear and worry clutched at the hunter's heart as he ran down the traveler's road to investigate. He did not have time to think on the awful meeting with this Blackmoore character, though he knew that something bigger was afoot. He would destroy the monsters as planned, as he was able.

But now he would have to be on constant guard against this new threat.  


* * *

No, Blackmoore isn't really a vampire. He grew wings. Vampires don't grow wings.

R&R for me, you'll motivate me to write the next chapter~! Really, your reviews and comment love are the only things that keep me going :'D


	8. Pursuit

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania. This fic was merely written to give myself and others enjoyment and I gain no profit other than your love and acceptance :'D Also, as warned, YES there is Yaoi. YES there is a little bit in this chapter. PLEASE don't read it if you dislike that kind of thing. Thank you.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter was long and difficult to write. Throwing in another moster here, but in true retard fashion Adrian forgot that Castlevania Manticores had BAT WINGS. So you won't catch these ones leaping around and flying and smacking him around with those wings, because I forgot they were there. Just pretend that I put in a bit to describe those to you xD  
Also, Richter didn't have any antidotes, and neither did the woodsman. I have no idea how a man would react to poison, so I made it up as I went along. Did I do it right?  
Chapter was supposed to be a lot longer than it turned out, but I thought that the next little tidbit of information could wait until chapter 9 x3  
Lastly, please forgive any WTF moments you might have with the end sequence of this chapter. I was at a loss for what to do Dx;

Read on and enjoy~~!

* * *

_Pursuit_

It had been three days since Richter's incident on the road. Three days ago, he had run into a creature of nightmare, just as Blackmoore had said. As he had dashed down the road in the waning moonlight, the air had fallen uneasily silent. A low growl to his right had caught his attention and he had moved quickly to investigate.

The scene he had come upon was one of utter destruction.

It was well known that along the forest roads there were various small cottages and log cabins belonging to the local woodsmen of each area. They generally stayed close to the travelers roads, living within easy access of the nearest town or village. Some of the more daring ones, seeking solitude or better forage lived deeper in the woods, further away from the roads and towns. These woodsmen could generally take care of themselves, turning only to civilization in the winter times when forage was scarce.

It was one of these very homes that he stumbled upon, a little house in a little glade a little ways away from the main road. The house in question had been reduced to ruins, splintered timbers thrown about the small clearing like straws. Yet it was a more terrible, sinister sight that had captured his full attention; a monstrous beast with the body of a lion and the vicious, stinging tail of a scorpion. It was quiet right now; bloodstained maw tearing flesh from what had once been the owner of the splintered little house. The woman he had heard scream earlier must have been this poor woodsman's wife, but she too had fallen silent, pinned to a tree by that deadly, poison filled tail. Her eyes were glassy, her mouth slack.

Vampire Killer had been at his side in that instant. He had lunged at the beast without thinking, holy whip lashing it hard across the flank. It had been so busy feasting that it had not noticed him, the scent of blood so full in its nostrils. When he had struck it, a large wound had opened up along its side and the beast had shrieked; a terrible unearthly sound somewhere between a keening wail and a full fledged roar. Instants later he was rolling to the side as the scorpion tail and all its deadly poison came shooting out at him. It narrowly missed his shoulder.

To his surprise, the creature had not stayed to fight, despite its pain and obvious rage at being confronted. As he got to his feet to do battle with it, it had run at him, swatting him aside with one massive paw. The beast was easily three times his size and he had not expected such an attack. Winded, he was tumbled into a pile of timbers as the creature yowled in pain and disappeared into the forest.

But the creature still bled; great gouts of toxic red, its blood as poisonous as the venom in its tail. Richter was worried. A wounded beast would be twice as dangerous, especially if it was in pain and filled with fury such as this one was. He had good reason to worry too; the forest was filled with small houses, small families just like this woodsman and his wife living alone and away from aid. The Manticore would have plenty of targets to take its pain and rage out on. More people would die needlessly, and somewhere far off, this Blackmoore would be getting a sick pleasure out of knowing his beast was going about and destroying humanity. He had to catch this monster and finish it off as soon as he possibly could.

And so he had been chasing the wounded Manticore ever since.

It had been a long and tiresome chase, but he knew he was getting close. The trail of blood he had been following was no longer cold and congealed, but rather fresh, still a vibrant and poisonous red. The Manticore was close, licking its wounds, trying to heal. He had come across only one other house, and the woodsman there had spread word to the other hunters and foragers that lived within the safety of the forest after seeing the beast stalk past. Richter urged him to flee, but he refused saying he could hold his own now that the danger had passed him, and that the Manticore had even destroyed some of the oddly colored crows in its rampage through his part of the woods.

But now that he was so close to the beast, he began feeling uneasy once again. Rather than just the trail of blood and crushed foliage, Richter had found signs of another beast in the area. Gouges upon the stronger trees trunks, a thin liquid splattered across branches that may well have been sap or deadly poison. He had never come across more than one Manticore at a time, and this was worrying. Were the creatures fickle? Were they territorial? He did not know if the beasts would seek each other out and strike each other down. As much as it would have helped him, there was no way of knowing for sure. It would be better to deal with this wounded beast then seek out the other Manticore and destroy that one too.

The creature's acrid blood stained the trail before him. Not far away lay the splintered ruins of yet another cottage. However, upon investigation, the rooms were empty and no blood other than the Manticore's had spilled upon the ground. The cottage itself was mostly intact, a large chunk gouged out of the wall by the creature's claw, a few shelves overturned and whatever food had been left behind devoured. He decided that it would be a good idea to rest here the night, before moving on and confronting the beast properly the next day.

--

"_Arachne is nothing compared to the horrors in the heart of Walachia. My beast is mad, mad, mad. Mad and ravenous. He will eat you, Belmont. He will devour you, heart and soul, if you do not turn back."_

_Beyond the shadows of dusk, he stood there in the corridors of the hunter's dreams. He did not turn; Richter could see nothing past his crimson hair and the dark red of his coat. He seemed to dissolve into the blackness from the waist down._

"_Do you know what I am, Belmont? I am the destroyer of your life, your livelihood. I have sworn to see everyone you love, everything around you fall into blackness and despair. I will _make_ you fall into blackness and despair."_

_He was toying with his watch again. Clicking it open, flicking it closed. He turned his head very slightly, just enough so that Richter could see the condescending leer, the pointed fang among his straight teeth._

"_Say not a word and accept our dominion, fool. And listen me this. The heart of Walachia contains perils of the likes which you cannot even fathom. As you can see, I can wander the minds of men and do with them everything I see fit. Hark to me, Belmont and take heed. Every step you take, every monster you destroy, I will make a dream of it for you. I will snap you and break you like the brittle little twig you are. The closer you get to me, the more horrendous and violent the nightmare you shall see. If you value your life, your sanity, turn around and go back."_

_He twirled the chain of his watch, clicking it open again._

"_But let this be fair warning. Do you want people to die? Then die they shall, by your merciless hand!"_

_He whirled then, membranous wings splitting the cloth on his back, fingers lengthening into claws. The expression across his face was one of pure hatred, flashing to sick glee. His eyes were wide, pupils mere slits in the slender face. Twirling the pocket watch, he caught it nimbly in one hand, snapping it shut with a sickening crack, a sound akin to the crackling of bone.._

And Richter awoke with a shout, lurching up from where he had been comfortably curled in a corner of the ruined cottage. He sat still for a few moments, drenched in a thin film of sweat, trying to still his rapidly beating heart. The sky overhead, though shielded by the towering trees, was bathed in a rosy glow. The absence of any brighter light, however, led him to realize it was still early in the morning

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a scream, his blood running cold as a snarling roar followed an instant later. Seizing Vampire Killer, he headed for the source of the commotion, hoping desperately that he would not be too late.

--

The sight that greeted his eyes was a terrible one. A grizzled woodsman, his shoulder laid open by the beast's claws, crouched with his arms protectively around a young woman. The girl herself seemed unharmed, but she was trembling, clutching at the old man's form, her eyes wide and focused on his wound. The two of them had their backs to a fallen tree, trapped by a terrible fight before them.

The Manticore Richter had been chasing had its jaws locked in another beast's throat, poison barbed tail stabbing into the other creature's flesh again and again. So there _had_ been another Manticore in the area; this second beast looked younger and stronger, and it was roaring in anger rather than pain. He couldn't help but wonder whether these beasts were immune to the poison of their own kind. Even as he watched in stunned amazement, the younger Manticore shook its wounded assailant off, raking its claws along the other creature's back and drawing blood. The hunter couldn't help but shudder. At this rate, both of the creatures would be drawn into a blood frenzy, tearing and biting each other until one of them fell. The woodsman and his daughter would remain ignored for now, but trapped where they were, it was impossible for them to escape without being trodden on or caught by the creatures flailing paws and stinging tails.

Richter did not know how to step in and deal with this. One Manticore alone was a task and a half to destroy, but what if both beasts decided to make him their prime target? Alone he could never stand up to both of them. Would it be worth the risk to dodge around the two fighting monsters and see what he could do to aid the two people? Even as he considered it, one Manticore tore up a tree as it swiped at the other, the trunk falling across the only escape the woodsman and his daughter had. He swore quietly under his breath as the young woman screamed again. They would not be able to climb over the trunk and escape without one or both creatures noticing, that is, assuming neither of them had been hurt by the tree's fall. There was nothing he could do but wait and see which Manticore triumphed over the other. He felt helpless, unable to aid those people whilst he stood back and watched this feud go on. Was this what Blackmoore had meant…?

No. He shook his head, swearing he would _not_ think on that vile man's words. That dream had meant nothing.

_Hadn't it?_

Feeling wretched, he tightened his grip on Vampire Killer, pulling what remained of his holy water from his belt. The creatures had created enough of a space in the clearing that he could throw the phials without fear of the forest burning down around him. Now all he could do was wait until one beast fell, then take out the other and hope that the woodsman hadn't bled to death and that neither he nor his daughter had suffered any injury from the falling tree.

The younger Manticore obviously had the upper hand on this older monster. It had roamed where it liked at its own leisure, slept when it had needed to, eaten what it pleased. It had not been wounded and in flight like the other Manticore that Richter had been chasing. He was surprised to see that this older beast was not fleeing like it had when he tried to confront it, though he supposed pain and madness would have made it strike the first creature it came across. It had treated tree and cottage with unexpected violence for the entire time it eluded him. Then again, this was another beast of its kind, and the smell of acidic, poisonous blood filled the air; it would awaken the hunter instincts in any monster.

Just as he was beginning to wonder how long this feud would last, the younger of the two beasts managed to get its claws deep in the festering wound his own whip had made. He watched, fascinated and repulsed as those claws tore a large chunk of flesh from the Manticore's body, as the younger beast struck at the older one's face with its deadly tail. The other creature flailed, blood gushing from its side, blinded by the scorpion barb that had been driven into its eye. It was this moment of weakness that caused its downfall.

Without hesitation, the young Manticore had pranced around it, avoiding claw and tail, and had violently driven its muzzle into the gaping wound in the older creature's side. The beast screamed. It writhed. It howled in pain and anger as this younger monster began to devour it _alive_. Bones crackled beneath sharp fangs, entrails spilled across the leafy ground as its wound was clawed at, widened. Scorpion tail flashed uselessly until that too was snapped between strong jaws, its screeches of anger and pain dying to moans of agony before the other beast ravaged its face with vehemence, hissing and spitting its fury.

Richter took the opportunity to throw the last phial of holy water he had left. It missed the beast completely and struck the carcass of the other Manticore, engulfing the corpse in holy flames. There was a yowl of surprise and a hiss of anger, and the Manticore whirled about, batting at its mane, red eyes searching for the one who had parted it from its meal. When it saw the hunter, it roared, shaking its head to effectively put the last of the flames out. Richter tensed, Vampire Killer at his side. The Manticore were creatures of fire, so of course flames wouldn't have too much effect on the living… how could he have forgotten?

Nonetheless, he did not have time to dwell on it now. The creature may have been wounded from its earlier bout with the other Manticore, but it was by no means any less of a threat. In fact, throwing holy water had seemed to do nothing more than enrage it further. A feeling of dread flooded him as he looked into the beast's eyes. Behind the hatred and anger, there was… nothing. Something was missing.

_My beast is mad, mad, mad…_

He glanced past the creature's shoulder, toward the fallen tree where he had last seen the woodsman and his daughter. The young woman's small, blonde head peered over the trunk, trying to see what had caused the creature to burn. Upon catching sight of Richter, she raised a hand to her mouth in surprise before ducking back down. He only hoped the two would take this opportunity to flee, whilst he held this monster's attention.

Snarling again, the beast lunged at him. He was surprised at how agile it was for its size and cursed under his breath as blood smeared claws nicked the cuff of his coat. It did not give him time to catch his breath at this sudden assault, poisonous tail lashing at him an instant later. Richter found there was no room for his own attacks; his entire time was spent dodging, rolling, twisting to avoid lethal claws and lethal tail. He could feel the fury radiating from this creature; the blood frenzy must still have been upon it despite killing its earlier opponent. He rolled behind a tree, hearing a sharp crunch and watching splinters fly as a massive claw flew after him. The Manticore yowled in aggravation, trying to pull its paw from where claws had lodged deep into the wood. The hunter seized the opportunity and struck hard with the holy whip, eliciting a shriek from the beast. He had struck with enough force to sever the paw from its body.

Hissing between its teeth, the Manticore looked down at the wounded stump of its forearm and lapped at the blood, before looking up at the hunter with wide, red eyes. Richter felt a thrill of fear shoot through him. The anger and hatred in that burning gaze was overwhelming. No normal animal should have been capable of such emotion. Once again, he found himself dodging the lightning fast strikes of the creature's tail, now avoiding the snapping, bloodied jaws as well. He jumped and dodged to the best of his ability, praying to the lord above that the Manticore would make yet another fatal mistake.

And so they danced this way about the clearing; the Manticore pursuing him with vehement fury whist Richter avoided it and struck out at the beast with Vampire Killer whenever he had the chance to. But he was tiring, the constant dashing and ducking taking a very visible toll on his body. The wound in his leg had reopened once again from his constant, sudden movements and the spears of pain that shot through him were causing much grief. The Manticore showed no signs whatsoever of tiring, though it limped after him on three legs and bled freely from the various strikes he had managed to land on it. He knew that he could not keep this up much longer. That he would have to make a stand and hope that whatever happened, the Manticore would end up dead.

The Manticore yowled and he found his opportunity. Forgetting about its severed paw for one moment, it had tried to lope after him and had stumbled. Now he whirled to face it, his face set in fierce determination. Deep blue eyes met the creature's own furious red, then suddenly both man and beast were a blur of movement. It was now or never; the hunter knew a chance like this one would not rise again. Twirling Vampire killer, he flung the holy whip out, striking as hard as he possibly could.

The blow was sound and sure, and the sickening crack and shatter reverberated as the whip struck the monster squarely between the eyes. Red orbs rolled back in the great furred head, but Richter did not see this. Even as Vampire Killer had connected with the beast's skull, something had struck him hard in his shoulder, knocking him flat onto his back. He felt his blood run cold as he recognized the great barbed spine of the scorpion tail, felt his body tremble as he saw the faintest stain of Manticore venom begin to darken his shirt. And then the earth was spinning, the ground trembling as the beast fell, dead. He coughed, gagged, feeling a heat spreading throughout his entire being, a heat that brought with it the fires of agony and torment. His shivering body would no longer respond to him as he tried to move, his breath growing short within his chest. Since when had Manticore poison been so potent…?

It was the last thought he had, before choking and gagging, his world slipped into blackness.

--

_Cold._

_He felt numbingly, unspeakably cold._

_He could see nothing all around him, yet he knew he was conscious. The Manticore's poison still flowed through his veins; he could feel it scalding and pulsing just beneath his skin. It hurt. It chilled him to the bone, in direct contrast to the burning of before. What had happened? Was the creature dead? And where was he…?_

_The world was like ice incasing him. It was so cold, yet his body was not trembling in the slightest. He wanted to curl up, try to keep himself from this painful, horrible chill, but when he tried to shift his arms, open his eyes, nothing happened._

_He felt a thrill of fear as he realized his body would not move. That his heart did not beat, nor his lungs labor for breath._

"_Isn't this a wretched existence, Belmont?"_

_He would have gasped if he could, upon hearing that velvet whisper. It was a voice he knew all too well, one that struck fear into his heart. A voice that should have fallen silent two years ago… what was this? What had happened to him? Was he truly dead…?_

"_Living between worlds. You are most certainly not alive. But you have not died either, though you are standing on the brink. I know you can hear me, sense me, fear me… you have no idea how much pleasure it brings my senses."_

_Now he was grateful that he had been struck blind. He did not want to see that figure, clad in his cloak and finery. Did not want to remember anything about this man, from his aristocratic features to his cold caress. He only wanted to escape now, to flee this terrible darkness. Frantically he willed his limbs to move, his heart to beat. He did not want to stay in this man's presence for another moment._

"_Will you run again from me, Richter?" The voice almost sounded hurt. "Where will you flee? Who will you flee to? You are alone in the darkness now. Nobody can save you."_

_The truth in those soft words sent agonies ripping through his soul. He did not want to believe. He had fought with one sure purpose, but still the darkness closed around him like a fist. Every night he had been tormented by dreams, assailed by Annette's screams, the silver whispers of how he could not save her. And now here he was, dying, unable to help anyone._

"_My poor, poor Richter." He flinched inwardly, feeling sick as hands as cold and dry as the grave lightly brushed the hair from his face, gently caressed his cheek. There was no warmth in either gesture. It was as cold and as frigid as his body had become. "I can give you life still. Embrace the darkness like you once did long ago. I can give you everything you yearn for."_

_A soft kiss was pressed to unresponsive lips. Sickness flared into terror and horror at what this shadow was about to do to his body, but he could not move. He could not pull away, could not shout nor run. He did not want to touch upon these memories again. He did not want any more sin to blight his soul, did not want to know the pain that would accompany that cold caress. Not now. Not again._

_He could not scream. Could not weep. Could not even cry out against the injustices being done to his still form as the shadow slowly began to strip the cloth from his body. He burned with cold._

"_Here you cannot escape me. Here you cannot run nor refuse me. I have yearned to break you beneath me again, Richter. You have always brought me so much pleasure. I have yearned for it since I lost you…"_

_Those terrible fingers were caressing his bare flesh now; he could all but sense the look of amusement that the Count's shadow was giving him. Pale flesh did not react to the touch, yet he could feel every stroke, every teasing nip and rub. He took no pleasure from it, wanting only to escape. Even if death take him, he would not suffer as he suffered now. He did not want to relive those memories, the pain he had felt in that cold embrace._

_He wanted to lash out at this being. This shadow that had given him so much reason to hate what he had become. But his body remained immobile, even as he felt strong hands grip his legs and force them apart._

_Inwardly he wept. He screamed. He yearned for escape, desperately tried to force his limbs to lift again. And suddenly he felt something stirring in his chest; the faintest pulse of a heartbeat. It fuelled his fear and determination to get away from this thing, even as he willed his body to life once again. Heavy limbs twitched, lungs labored, his eyes snapped open only to look up into the golden orbs of the man he had fought, had feared. The man that had defiled him at the castle those two years ago._

_He was but a shadow, a pale remnant of his former self, but still terrifying, still elegant and handsome. And upon seeing Richter's eyes open, he merely smiled in his elegant, cruel manner, a soft chuckle parting his lips._

"_So still to the end you fight." There was soft amusement in his voice, though his eyes remained dark with anger and lust. "But I am afraid you are too late, my dear Richter."_

_Even as he spoke he lay the hunter open before him. Before Richter could try to pull away, to spit and curse at him, the count had seized his waist in an iron grip, nails digging deep his flesh. A hiss of pain left the hunter's lips as breath returned to him; he struggled feebly with limbs that felt too heavy, with a body that burned with cold. Golden eyes once again met his own; the gaze was predatory this time, hungry and sinful._

_He could not escape those eyes, not escape the hands that held him still. The Count had barely disrobed at all, and Richter's scream of pain was lost in the clinging folds of the vampire's cloak as the shadow thrust into him, fierce and violent._

_If this were a dream, he prayed he would wake. If this was indeed reality, he prayed he could die.

* * *

_

Gods above, I've never written anything remotely like rape before. I'm sorry Dx

Nonetheless~! Review for me and love me? ;A;  
Things can only get more interesting from here on out~


	9. Medicor

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania. Blackmoore and the Hedgewitch however, are another story. This fic has yaoi and other sexual related things. I warned you. Read on at your own peril.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter is a massive conversationfest Dx  
I'm sorry, I spent MUCH to long worrying over the new character introduced here. I still don't much like how she turned out and she still rather irks me, but as long as you guys like her and as long as she helps move the plot along and she doesn't come off as a terrible sue, I guess that's ok. Adrian had a heart attack when the chapter spanned over 7 pages Dx; Conversation does that though. Hopefully the next chapter will be more interesting than this one. Massive brain fart time Dx;  
ALSO. I am VERY happy to see an increase in watches since chapter 8. However, it is rather disheartening to see that my review count hasn't gone up as well. Please people, show me some support D: Your comments and criticisms make me happy!

Love and hugs to Siberian and Beth for sticking it out with me this far in 3 I wouldn't have gotten this far without you gais :'D

AND ON WE GO!

* * *

_Medicor_

"This way, father! Oh, please hurry!!"

A harsh croak overhead had alerted her of company long before she had even begun to hear the labored breaths and hurried footsteps of people fighting their way through the underbrush. Calmly she had slipped the hood of her homespun robe over her head and turned to walk quietly through the open door of her home. The sleek blue crow that had alerted her perched on a tree branch overhead, croaking ominously.

In silence she moved and in silence she now acted as she hung an old pot over the fire and filled it with water. Her home was a small one; a tiny stone cottage located just within the forest's embrace. It was hardly bigger than anything the local hunters and woodsmen owned, but it was strong and sturdy and had withstood many an attack in the months gone by. Even as she set about preparing the one straw pallet in the corner she heard a sharp rap on the door, looking up to find a panicked young woman with light blonde hair huffing and panting, her eyes searching madly.

"Milady!" She gasped out. "Please milady, you must help us!"

Without a word, listening to the cawing of the bird overhead, she walked to the door only to find a grizzled grey woodsman coming up behind his pretty daughter, his shoulder bound tight with strips torn from her tunic. But carried in his arms was another figure; a beautiful young man with dark brown curls. The barb of a scorpion was embedded in his shoulder, but it was a monstrous barb, bigger than the tail of any scorpion she had ever read about. It twitched from time to time, as though it had a life of its own, and dark poison dripped from where it had been severed from whatever creature's body it had come from.

"I…" she beckoned them inside. "Quickly. Tell me what has happened to you. All of you." She threw the hood of the robe back, ignoring them both as they flinched away. "I know not if I can save this man. But I shall try. In order to do so, you must endure my company a little longer. Come in. Tell me what has come to pass."

--

_It was as though the past two years had never occurred. As though he had never escaped the castle and all its bleakness. Except within the castle it had never been this cold. Within the castle he had never wished to die, merely to escape._

_He wept in grief and pain. He had been a stronger man in those days, bolder and headstrong. He could hold his own, keep his heart and mind intact as his body was invaded. He had planned and struggled to break free. And eventually he had been saved, rescued. But that was before. That was a long, long time ago. Who would help him now? Here he was alone._

_And it was cold. It was so terribly, horribly cold. His heart had struggled to life so many times, only to be crushed and broken again as the Count's shadow had overpowered him._

_And he was a merciless fiend. Richter's sanity mattered not to him. Cruel laughter rang in his ears as he screamed, as he struggled, as his body ceased to function, throwing him at the vampire's mercy once again. He was shredded by those sharp nails, torn by those fangs. Beneath that frigid body, his own was broken and defiled over and over and over. Dracula took pleasure in every scream, every curse. He drank Richter's tears as he might drink blood; with a fierce hunger and deep satisfaction. And every time he was taken, every time he was torn apart and violated, his spirit broke just a little more. The blight upon his soul grew bigger and bigger, the light in his heart fading away to nothing._

_The vampire was destroying him. And he was powerless to fight back._

_He lay between life and death, unable to faint, unable to lose consciousness. All he could do was endure or shatter. And every passing moment in that cruel embrace pushed him closer to breaking point. There was barely any sanity left within. The air ran thick with the scent of blood, sweat and terror._

_But even the Count could not endure forever. To break the man in one fell swoop would bring him little pleasure. Richter's pain flooded screams, the scent of his blood pouring from his broken body, the brief flutter of his struggling heart; all were things he had come to relish. He would hold the hunter close this way, drive him to the brink then slowly pull away and begin the cycle again._

_These moments away from the Count's presence, however brief, kept him from losing his mind completely. But he had no strength, no will, no desire to even attempt to escape this world of twilight he had somehow been thrust into. He simply could not. When the Count left him, his heart ceased to beat. His breath ceased to flow. He lay cold and helpless in this world between worlds, bleeding and weeping, his heart breaking within his breast. Once again he was a shell of Richter Belmont. Once again he found himself praying that this suffering would end._

_It was then that he felt his heart stirring once more._

_A pain beyond anything he had ever known filled his limbs, but accompanying that pain was a warmth. A small, tingling glow within his being. He trembled, shying away from it after knowing nothing but bitter cold for so long._

_And there in the distance was a tiny pinpoint of light. Something so bright and so beautiful, but so far away. He reached a trembling hand out, yearning to touch it, to clasp it to him before it disappeared forever. He blinked back tears, wanting to return to the light but not having the strength to. He stretched his arms towards that tiny bead, his heart aching with pain, with the memory of what he had endured. Something on his hand caught the glittering beam, shimmering and winking on his finger._

_It was a simple gold band with a green stone embedded into it. A simple gift he had sworn upon on that terrible day when he found Annette was no more._

_His promise still remained unfulfilled. He would find the demons that had destroyed her; he would kill them and exact his revenge. He had promised this to her. He would keep his promise. He had to keep his promise...!_

_Warmth flooded his limbs as he tried slowly, agonizingly to get to his knees. Spasms of pain wracked his body, made him cry out and fall back down. He would keep his promise. He must, he must. Slowly, painstakingly, he reached out, clawing at the ground with first one hand and then the other. Slowly he pulled himself towards that shining ray in the distance._

--

A howling curse was screeched into the still night air as Marcel Blackmoore shook his wings and paced back and forth in the study of his home. The succubus sat close by upon his desk, her face clearly unimpressed.

"_I do not understand!" _He snarled. _"He could not just disappear. My beast is dead and there is no sign of him in the realm of dreams! We do not have his soul, yet he does not slumber! No man can evade sleep. I cannot find his mind, his dreams. Where is he?! Where is that bastard?!?" _In vehement fury, he lashed out at the desk, the succubus taking flight as he sent its contents scattering across the room. She tutted at his childish display, settling herself in mid air high above his head.

"Calm yourself," she said slowly, her tone betraying her immense dislike for the young aristocrat. "He is not in the realm of the living, nor the realm of the dead." Her golden eyes narrowed darkly. "You must court the idea that he might himself have been taken by a power beyond our comprehension."

And a smirk crossed her full lips as Blackmoore's shoulders slumped, his body taking on a more relaxed posture as realization dawned upon him. She was not impressed, however, to see a thoughtful sort of anger clouding his crimson eyes moments later.

--

Light. Warmth.

Both things enfolded Richter in a comforting embrace, holding him gently, tenderly, as the world around him adjusted into something familiar once again.

He had dragged himself toward that beacon of light, watched it glow and grow the closer he came, until it had surrounded him. For an instant he could see nothing but white, and he felt inexplicably safe. So safe that he had almost protested as the light around him began to fade away, until the world was dark once again.

It was then that he noticed his heart was beating strongly in a chest that rose and fell with each breath. He stirred and slowly opened his eyes, hearing the snap and crackle of a fire nearby. It was a few moments before his eyes adjusted to the dim room, and he couldn't help but wonder where he was. This was certainly not the forest. There was a straw stuffed mattress beneath his back, rough woolen sheets against his naked flesh. For a moment, a thrill of fear shot through his heart at the idea that he might be back in Castlevania, still suffering at Dracula's hands, and that fear was enough to have him sitting bolt upright in an instant. A cry left his lips a moment later as a hot rush of pain followed his sudden movement and blackness flooded his vision. Before he slipped away again, he dimly glimpsed a brown robed figure hurriedly standing in the corner of the room.

After lying between life and death, falling unconscious was an immense relief. For once he lay still, his mind blissfully blank. Untroubled, undisturbed.

--

He could hear a cricket chirping over the hiss and pop of the fire. Confused as to why Castlevania would suddenly become a home for crickets, he slowly opened his eyes. The castle had always been so wide, so vast. He should have heard no nocturnal life from his room, aside from the howling of wolves and squeaking of bats. He blinked for a few moments, staring up at the straw thatched roof overhead, realizing that this could not have been the Castle of Chaos after all. Relief flooded him as he ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Good evening, traveler." A voice at his elbow muttered. Startled, he rolled onto his side, body tense and ready to spring, his back pressed against the stone wall behind him. Flares of pain followed every movement, but they were bearable this time, and Richter found himself grimacing in pain. His eyes locked with an orb of a pale storm grey.

"Oh my…" A young woman in a hooded homespun robe sat by his bed, one hand raised to her lips to hide her slight smile. "I did not mean to startle you… please, relax. You are…" she paused, glancing around at the room. "amongst friends."

Richter stared at her. Judging by her appearance and her attire, she was a herbalist; her size suggesting that she was about Maria's age. But it was neither of these things that drew his gaze. When she had spoken her voice had been soft yet rough; a whisper of one who had just escaped a fire. He could see now that her face matched; the right side of her head covered in an intricate web of flesh untreated, the kind that would have resulted in a long and painful recovery. Yet these were old wounds, the flesh long since dulled to an angry red against her dusky skin. Scars ran like veins over her cheek, her eyelid, teasing at the corner of her mouth. The web spread further still down her throat and as she drew her hand away from her lips, he could see that it too was covered in the same tangle of marks; hillocks and valleys all red with long endured pain. But even as he stared, she gazed calmly back at him and grinned.

"Do not be alarmed, traveler." She said softly, rising from her chair and shuffling over to a table in the corner of the room as Richter slowly sat up, wincing a little at the ache that accompanied every movement. "Many people have reacted… poorly over seeing my face. I'm sure you have seen sights much worse than a firetouched woman. But I assure you… I am truly harmless." She looked over her shoulder at him, one eye shining brightly in the firelight, the other nothing more than a grayish white shadow beneath that half closed eyelid. Richter wondered if it had been fused that way in whatever accident she had been in. She was not a sinister creature, but he couldn't help but feel a little pity over the state of her body. No wonder she wore that robe, its sleeves far too long for her arms, the hem dragging along the ground as she constantly stumbled over it.

"My lady…" he began as she retrieved something from the table and returned to his side. "I… Where am I?"

She chuckled then, pressing a bowl of thin soup into his hands. "Eat first, ask questions later on. You've been asleep for three days. I was beginning to fear the worst for you." She settled herself back into her chair and crossed her arms, the sleeves of her robe flopping comically. "Go on, eat! I'm afraid I cannot offer you much… all I live on out here is whatever I can bring down myself… or whatever Penna catches for me." She lifted a sleeve, pointing towards the doorway where a sleek black raven perched on a gnarled wooden branch set in a jar of earth. It croaked, beady black eyes shining as it tilted its head and seemed to survey the hunter. Richter seemed to pass whatever expectations it had, for moments later the bird had hopped onto the windowsill and with a squeaky chirrup had flapped its wings and flown out of the cottage.

The young woman smiled; a surprisingly gentle smile despite her scarred face. "Please excuse me. There are things I need to see to." She stood, dragging her chair back to the table, before heading for the other side of the room and tending to something bubbling quietly over the fire. Richter looked down at the bowl in his hands, finding the thin soup contained small amounts of wild radish and potato. Here and there were small chunks of rabbit meat. Compared to what he had been living off for the past few days, it was almost a meal for kings. It had felt like an eternity since he had last eaten fresh vegetables with any of his meals, even if the vegetables in question were the small, withered kinds that struggled to survive out in the wilds.

He ate slowly, still flinching at the pain that assailed his body. He had lain asleep for three days… three days that had felt like an eternity as he lay in the twilight between life and death. It had felt like the bleak nothingness of agony and repulsion, pain and disgust would never end. Felt as though he would never have known this simple warmth ever again. He shivered, still recalling that cold touch, the mocking laughter, the sickening slap of flesh upon flesh…

"… Traveler? Are you alright?"

Richter blinked, startled. The herbalist was at his side again, one hand on his shoulder, that grey eye gazing at him in concern. It took him a moment to slow his rapidly beating heart, to still the queasiness he suddenly felt in his stomach. His bowl was empty, but he gripped it in white knuckled hands. The young woman looked at him, concerned, before taking his coat from where it lay draped over one of the chairs and placed it around his shoulders. Breathing heavily, the hunter tugged it more securely around himself, closing his eyes as he felt the bowl taken with gentle fingers. Moments later he lowered his head, very aware that her gaze was upon him, her hand lifted thoughtfully to her lips.

"The antidote works slowly." She said after a time. "You will still feel pain for quite some time… which is why you must rest, dear traveler. Take things slowly. And under no circumstances must you go out into the forest to slay whatever other horrors are lurking there." She took her seat at his side again and lifted his chin. "Do you feel up to asking me anything tonight? Or should I give you something to help you sleep? You've become so pale…"

Richter shook his head quickly. "No. No… I'll be fine." Sleep was the last thing he wanted right now. To be assailed by Blackmoore in the realm of dreams… or worse, to dwell on that terrible memory… he did not want it. Taking a deep breath, he looked towards the herbalist. "My lady, I have been in your care for over… three days, is it? Would I be right in the assumption that you were the one who saved me from the Manticore?"

The herbalist chuckled. "No. I didn't save you from the beast. From the toxin, yes. I brewed the antidote. But I would have been absolutely useless if they hadn't brought you here with that disgusting barb embedded in your shoulder." She lifted a sleeve and motioned at the bandage securing the hunter's left shoulder. "You have the woodsman's daughter, Felicia, to thank for your life. She was the one that insisted that her father bring you here." Her face turned grave, the seriousness of her expression enhanced by that latticework of scars. "Were it up to him, well. The superstitious continue to believe that it takes a monster to kill a monster. And that all monsters are better off dead."

A bitter silence hung in the air before them before Richter cleared his throat. "I am truly grateful. To the both of you. But… I cannot continue to call you 'my lady' whilst I am beneath your roof. Please, might I know the name of my host?"

She gazed at him, a sad smile crossing her lips. "Penna is the only one beneath this roof in possession of a name, traveler. I… I do not have one and they continue to believe that I am not deserving of one. However!" She added quickly, seeing the concern and surprise in his eyes. "If you must call me anything, call me Hedgewitch. It is a sort of… word that the townsfolk have bestowed upon me. I do not mind it." She added, smiling. "The fact that they acknowledge me… need me… that's enough. Even if they despise me." She laughed softly.

Richter nodded in understanding. It made sense. A village would normally contain one healer or herbalist, and that individual would often be subject to fear from the general populace. Oftentimes they were cast out of their homes, living a short distance away from the general cluster of houses. Their skills were respected, but they were also feared. One who could heal a man when all other home remedies had failed… many of the superstitious considered it witchcraft. Often it was the healer who was burned, stoned, banished from the village. But healers could be replaced, and often they were… only to have the cycle repeat itself after a year or two. If the herbalist was lucky, fear would keep the people at bay, just like it had with Richter's own situation until the recent months. It seemed the same with this particular woman.

"Answering your question from before dinner…" She continued softly. "You are on the outskirts of this forest. There is a town just half a day's walk from here. Shorter still on horseback, but if you had a horse, I assume the Manticore took care of it?" She paused, surveying him as he shook his head. "I see. No horse."

They were quiet for a little bit longer. Richter secured the coat around his shoulders and closed his eyes. "What of news, hedgewitch?" He asked finally. "Tell me about this part of the country. What is plaguing the people here? What demons? What news?"

The hedgewitch regarded him thoughtfully for a long time. "You don't intend to go out already, do you?" She asked. "You're not well enough."

"No no." He insisted. "You have my word. I just want to know what I am up against. I swear, I will not leave until I am well enough and not a moment sooner. I am not as headstrong as I used to be." He smiled.

The herbalist blinked at him for another long moment before finally nodding. Raising her scarred hand, she gathered her raven locks and tossed them back over one shoulder. "Very well." She closed her eyes. "If you really must know, this... has become... dream-eater country." She steepled her fingers before her, resting her elbows on her lap as those billowing sleeves slid down her arms. "In days gone by, many people have found their loved ones... dead. Died in their sleep. Moaning and crying like one lost in the throes of passion and then... nothing." She tilted her head slightly, looking over at the window as Penna flew in upon a soft rush of wings. The bird had a small branch in its beak, and she waved it towards the table. Croaking, the raven dropped the twig on her lap and flew back to its perch, chirping like one amused with itself. The hedgewitch ignored it and twirled the branch between her fingers as she continued to speak. "Men and women have been lured into the forest by a winged beast never to be seen again. Some have awoken to their loved ones being... mounted by the same creatures. The very embodiments of beauty and desire." She shrugged, smiling faintly. "How does one kill a beast that haunts only the mind? Such terrifying creatures."

Richter gazed at her silently. Men and women both disappearing? The way she spoke, it sounded as though there were both Incubi and Succubae hiding themselves in the forest, feeding on those unwary in the town. But how many? He would have to ask…

"If you asked any of the townsfolk, they would probably also warn you about a red skinned demon that lurks in this area of the forest..." She continued, smiling sweetly at him when he raised an eyebrow. "But no doubt they will just be referring to me. Pay that rumor no mind. They'll try to use you as a way to do away with me for sure."

"And how do I know you are not the demon that they say you are?" Richter asked.

"Hunter." She replied flatly. "You've spent the past three days under my roof. I tended your wounds, and kept you alive to some extent. If I wanted to do away with you and use your corpse for whatever ridiculous immortality spells I had in my power, I could have done it ages ago, and taken that old woodsman's life to go with yours. But did I? No. Because, quite simply, neither Penna nor myself is a threat." She sighed. "I cannot even defend myself, should the occasion rise."

Richter's questioning gaze set her face into a mask of grave seriousness once again.

"There was a Buer." She said softly, lowering her gaze. "Mama and my sister and I… we were the first to be attacked. Not just in this town, but the first in all of Walachia. The attack happened some three years ago, back in those carefree days when everyone thought they were safe. Mama burned. Otilia burned. The house burned. I do not recall much, hunter, but I was running. There were flames everywhere." She stretched out her arm, pulling the neck of her robe down so that Richter could see that the web extended down the right side of her torso, the flesh eaten away even worse in the areas normally invisible to the eye. Beneath the loose robe, it gave her a skeletal slenderness, and judging by her expression, it pained her a lot more than she had ever let on. "The only reason I sit before you now is because a scholar saved me."

"A… scholar?" He echoed, tilting his head. Pity once again welled in his heart for this young woman, but he did not say anything. She was probably long past being pitied and no longer cared for anyone else's sentiments to her condition, as crippling as it was. But an attack by the five legged demon of flame explained the severity of her burns, the odd pattern in which they had healed. One could easily be branded as a heretic with wounds like those.

"A scholar." She replied, her expression betraying her sudden awkwardness at the situation. "He lives in a town far from here. Strange man. From time to time, he still visits." She pulled her robe around her once again, slowly getting to her feet. "The hour grows late, traveler." She muttered a little stiffly. "There are still many things I need to do. Excuse me."

"Of course." Richter nodded as she dragged the chair back to the table and shuffled over to the fireplace with a cup in hand. "Thank you for the tidings, my lady." He looked up as she appeared at his side again and pressed the cup into his hands.

"Drink it." She said softly. "I am still concerned over the state you are in and you are still rather pale…" she lifted a hand to his cheek. "I shall see you again in the morning, traveler." She smiled. "Rest well."

Richter was too busy thinking on the news he had heard to look carefully at the contents of his cup. He drank deeply, surprised at the warmth of the liquid as it flowed down his throat, and it was not long before the cup was empty. A sudden heaviness settled over him, dark fingers pulling him down to the realms of sleep. But so sudden, so fast. He groaned, feeling his body falling backwards, the cup slipping from his fingers.

As heavy lids slipped over blue eyes, he heard the hedgewitch's voice once again.

"Before I forget… There was one other piece of news you might find interesting and the townsfolk will say the same. There is a demon in the woods to the north. A beautiful, beautiful demon in the form of a man. Those who see him cannot touch him. And he brings death with a slender, silver sword…"

--

_He was running. The moon was high overhead, casting a brilliant silver light across the landscape below. But there was something terrible and sinister behind him and whatever it was, he could feel its wrongness, its anger and hunger. He was fleeing the darkness that ran behind him, eating away at the silver light, terror and grief flooding the land in its wake._

_Moonlight was fading, moonlight was breaking; the sky overhead was being darkened by a cruel, inky black. Sharp, crackling sounds echoed in the recess behind him; heartless and cruel, the sky was weeping as the darkness shattered holes in the web of the sky. Was it screaming for help? Even as he ran, he raised his head to look up, flinching at the gaping wounds rent in the heavens themselves. Rain fell from these wounds, the droplets thick and red. Blood? The world was bleeding?_

_Beasts shook themselves and slid from the sky's injuries. Manticore, Arachne. Lilith, Ogre. Harpy, Medusa. A crowd of mermen shrieked and danced in the pools of red. Richter had stopped running. He was staring at these creatures as they continued to fall, each landing with a shriek of triumph, bounding away across the black, desolate landscape._

_Screams followed. Fear and terror. The scent of blood and death carried on the wind, and the triumphant cry of the monsters rose; louder and louder and louder to the broken heavens above. His hand groped for Vampire Killer at his side, only to find that the whip was not there. The beasts roared and cried, disappearing into the darkness to wreak havoc. They ignored him. He ran at the monsters, tearing at fur and feathers with his bare hands, striking out, trying to slow them, stop them from their terrible tasks. One or two turned and cast him aside like nothing. The screams increased tenfold, bringing him to his knees._

_Broken, alone. He could do nothing. He covered his ears, wishing he could not hear that suffering._

_And then, miraculously, the screaming stopped. The sound faded. Blood rain ceased to fall, though the darkness did not recede. He lowered his hands, looking up as a figure silently walked through the blackness towards him._

_Golden eyes glowed brightly in the pale face, framed by long, silvery tresses. He walked without a sound, his steps the confident walk of a highborn noble. A heavy black cloak billowed out behind him, sword sheathed at his side. His gaze settled on the hunter, his expression cold and calm._

"_I cannot do this alone any longer." His voice was smooth and rich; the perfect noble, the perfect noble's accent. One hand extended out to the bewildered hunter, his expression softening, eyes as close to pleading as he would allow. Richter blinked up at him, mouth agape. He knew this man. He was but a distant memory in the abyss of his mind, but he remembered._

_Held in the other man's outstretched hand was Vampire Killer._

A loud hiss startled him out of his dream, just as he had reached for the handle of his whip. He blinked sleepily, watching the dappled forest shadows play across the bedspread and floor from the open window. Wondering just what that noise could have been, he closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, intent on falling asleep again, until a loud bang had him sitting bold upright in bed.

The door was creaking gently on its hinges, banging shut and swinging open in the morning breeze, but it was the scene before that that drew his gaze.

Curled up in a ball on the front door mat was the hedgewitch. Her robe had a great many rents in the shoulders and her sleeves were in tatters, blood from her shoulders stained the fabric dark brown. There was a bright red smear across one cheek, but it looked more like some woman's lip paint than blood, and in her mangled hand was clutched a single white rose. But even as Richter gasped and made a move to get out of bed, she sat up slowly and smiled at him. Her hair was a tangled mess.

"Good morning, traveler." She said cheerfully, laughing lightly and shaking her head when Richter asked what on earth had happened to her last night.

* * *

... not an ideal way to end the chapter, but as I said. It should be better in the next one :D'' If you can figure out what happened to the hedgewitch, feel free to say so.

Reviews and love for me, darlings?  
It is these two things alone that keep me going! D:


	10. Flight

DISCLAIMER: Maid-chan doesn't own castlevania. Maid-chan is writing this for your enjoyment and gains no profit from it, aside from your love and happy comments. Maid-chan would like you to know that there is yaoi in this fanfic, but none in this particular chapter.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: By the Light, Judgement, Night, Snows and the Divine tree itself! We've made it to chapter 10!!! Merry Christmas everyone! While I didn't quite get this chapter up by Christmas like I'd hoped, its still in the general Christmas area, so still counts. Another project has kept me from submitting this sooner. I'm still working on said project and might I just say I am very VERY sorry that I was unable to submit it along with this chapter?

As you might be able to tell, I got lazy with the Alura Une/Venus weed and just referred to it as an Une for this chapter. Also, I realize that Unes don't poison people, but I thought it was a nice touch. Don't tell me Richter needs to stop getting hurt. When you get into a fight, you're bound to get hurt, so its reasonable.  
Also, I don't know if you can drug people with leaves. I'm making this up as I go along since I have no knowledge whatsoever of herb lore.

And a side note to my dear reviewers Siberian, Beth and Dom. Let me just say I appreciate you now more than ever before :'D -hugsandluff-

* * *

_Flight_

Richter found himself spending the remainder of the week in the hedgewitch's company.

It was strange, falling back into a routine that did not involve trekking through the forest for days on end or doing battle against some sort of monster that had caught him unawares. After the first two days, he had realized that his pack, bedroll, coin and everything else Maria had given him had been left behind in that ruined cottage back when he had fought the Manticore. He would have gone back for them, but the herbalist bundled him back into bed, telling him that he was not well enough yet, and besides, the local fleamen would have taken advantage of anything left behind anyway. It was a sorrowing thought, losing everything that she had given him, but there was nothing that could be done.

The hedgewitch herself was interesting company, however, despite always being busy with brewing some elixir, going out to gather plants or tending to the few townspeople that could not get their remedies directly from the wayside house along the traveler's road. As the young woman had explained, the only people she normally saw were the local woodsmen and the priests of the wayside chapel when they had run low on her remedies.

She was strange but welcoming, declining payment of any kind for her hospitality, insisting that it was enough to see him well and on his way again. When he was finally allowed out of bed, Richter found himself spending his days wandering the forest's edge, looking out over the traveler's road to the town visible in the distance. Often he found himself helping the herbalist with domestic chores; chopping wood, hunting, and at one point, nailing the dried barb of the Manticore's tail above her doorpost.

But lately she had seemed on edge, wary and nervous. She did the day's tasks with trembling hands, jumping at the slightest of noises. The hunter had awoken in the early hours of morning only to find the door banging on its hinges again, the herbalist with tears in her eyes, sitting at the table in a mess of bandages, various cuts on the visible skin and dark bruises on her wrists. She had told him that the weather affected her this way and it was nothing to concern himself over.

Richter was alarmed to hear her shrieking one day, only to run indoors and find that Penna had flown in through the window and startled her, which in turn had caused her knife to slip and a large slash to appear across her left hand. Following her orders, he had helped to clean the wound and then bandage it, and the hedgewitch had commented sourly on how he wasn't very good. When he demanded to know what it was that had her so afraid, she laughed and shook her head.

"It's nothing, traveler." She said simply, smiling bravely as if that were the end of the matter. "I just didn't expect Penna to come flying in as she did." The two of them looked over at the raven, who was crouched on her perch, wings half spread. The hunter was surprised when the bird hissed at him, snapping at his fingers when he reached out to smooth her feathers. "Leave her be." She added, shaking her head. "Penna was just as surprised as I was."

He had had to content himself with the excuse that it was just an accident. Still, the days were getting colder and the howl of wolves had begun to assail the forest air. He couldn't help but wonder if this had something to do with her fear.

Still, even injured, she refused his help in concocting potions, saying that it was a fine art that he lacked skill in.

"You stick to your monster slaying, traveler; I will keep to my potions." Her face had been grave, but her words had been light and cheerful. "Now away with you. Let me cook in peace."

He had no choice but to let her be.

--

_The dream returned to him that night._

_The sky, broken overhead. The beasts raining down from its wounds. The screams and torture and agony that accompanied their fall. No matter where he ran, the creatures surrounded him, baying his name, snarling and slavering. He found himself trapped in a ring of the demons; Buer and Ghoul, Skeleton and Valkyrie, Orc and Necromancer. Laughing and snarling, they lunged for him with claw and feather, staff and sword. He groped at his side for Vampire Killer, feeling a thrill of dread when he realized the holy whip was not there. The creatures circled closer and closer, their bodies wet with the falling blood rain, his own clothes and hair saturated by the thick droplets. He stumbled to avoid a flailing tail, slipping in a puddle of red and falling. Sitting upon his rear before these monsters, he could not help but feel like it was a vision of hell and its demons. He had fallen so low; the blight was so dark upon him. Here he would stay, torn apart by these beasts for eternity…_

_Something lightly touched his shoulder, causing him to lift his head. Standing before him in the thick rain was that moonlight pale figure from the depths of his memory. The beasts that had surrounded him were reduced to corpses in a bloody ring. Not one drop of red fell upon the pale flesh nor marred the silver-blonde hair as the other man stared down at him, holding out a hand to help him up._

_Pulling the hunter to his feet in one smooth, graceful motion, he leaned close until they were shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest. Soft lips brushed his ear as the other man spoke in a silver whisper._

"_Do not lose hope."_

_Richter felt that gloved hand brush against his own, sliding something into his palm. His fingers closed around the familiar handle, a tingle of warmth spreading up his arm as he realized what it was that the other man had given him. He looked up, deep blue eyes meeting golden as the noble pulled away. His expression turned from bewildered to a determined, a glimmer of his former fierceness cracking the shell of the man he had become. And golden eyes watched on, a slight nod of the head his only acknowledgement._

_And then he had melted into the darkness, leaving Richter alone once again. But Vampire Killer was in his hand, even as new beasts surrounded him and the rain fell thicker than ever. Wielding the holy whip, he brought them down even as they screamed his name and ran at him, snarling and yowling with the intent to kill. He fought them off and held them back. _He_ was in control now._

--

He awoke the next morning feeling alive and refreshed. It was no surprise to find that the door was banging on its hinges again; but when he got up to latch it, he found the hedgewitch standing outside in the clearing staring vacantly at the trees. Penna was perched on the young woman's hand, and she was stroking the raven's feathers absently. It was her expression that unnerved him, however. That look of grave seriousness creasing her lips into a frown, her one good eye filled with a fear and sorrow beyond his understanding.

Donning his coat, he stepped outside to join her, his appearance heralded by Penna giving a squeaky chirrup. The hedgewitch turned, a smile upon her lips, though her eye remained troubled.

"Good morning, traveler." She said softly. "I made porridge. It's still warming over the fire." She had never asked for his name, not once, since he had awoken. He had tried to formally introduce himself the second day he had stayed in her company, but she had quickly turned away and shaken her head saying that if she did not know who he was, she could not say anything on his whereabouts. He was under the suspicion that she knew exactly who she was taking care of, but if she were to later be questioned by the villagers or priests, she would not have the truth of his name to condemn her as an accomplice to the devil. "There is a tree not too far from here." She motioned with one sleeve into the woods. "Full of bees. We were thinking of gathering honey to go with the meal, but you woke before we could surprise you." She chuckled.

He blinked, looking at her in surprise. "Oh… it's no trouble. Really."

But the herbalist shook her head, lifting her finger to the opposite shoulder, so Penna could perch there more comfortably. "You're welcome to come along with us." She said cheerfully. "It shouldn't take long. Just light a little fire, smoke them out then make back here with the goods. I haven't tasted honey in a while, and didn't think we'd be able to come across any so late in the year. Fortune smiles upon us today." Stretching slowly, she walked back to the cottage and disappeared inside, only to emerge a moment later with an oiled cloth. "We'll be back soon." She nodded before throwing the cloth over her unoccupied shoulder and disappearing across the clearing and into the dark wood.

Richter watched her go, still wondering just what it was that had her so terrified. Surely nothing in the forest otherwise she wouldn't be entering it so freely. Nobody from the town had come up for any sort of reason, so it could not be fear of the townsfolk either. He could only assume it was something else entirely.

Puzzled, he returned to the cottage, got himself a bowl and went over to the fireplace where an iron pot was resting above the embers. He was halfway through breakfast when he heard a soft tapping on the windowsill. Looking up from his bowl, he was completely surprised to find a slender face surrounded by luscious red curls peering in through the window. The succubus, it appeared, was surprised to see him too; thin eyebrows were arched high above wide, golden eyes. They stared at each other for a few moments, both completely baffled by each other's presence before Richter was lunging for Vampire Killer and the succubus was taking flight. The herbalist had said that this part of Walachia was overrun by the lascivious demons, but he had never imagined that they would come up to her very home… and in broad daylight, no less.

All but barreling out of the door, he ran into the clearing only to be confronted by the she-demon floating languidly in the air before him, one leg crossed over the other as though she sat in a chair. He kept his eyes on her face and did not let them travel, for she did not wear anything other than the tight corset over her breast. But hers was a face he knew very well; she was the exact same succubus that had haunted his dreams, given him the premonition of Annette's death, taunted him with the stinging memory of the dark castle.

"I had heard…" she drawled. "That my dear lady had a guest and that I wasn't allowed to visit her any longer… but I did not realize it was you! This is a surprise. A surprise indeed." She smiled, a sensual display of lips and teeth. "Pray tell, what are you doing here, Belmont? I thought you were dead."

"Monster!" He cried. "I do not have to answer to the likes of you!"

Her smile faded and she regarded him sourly. "Big words from the little man who sits all the way down there. You're so savage, Belmont. I don't think your little whip can reach me up here. However…" She drew a phial out from where it was tucked away between her breasts. From where he stood, he could see that it was filled with a liquid so dark red that it was almost black. "Do you know what this is, Belmont?" She asked, floating above him and drawing rose from her hair. She held it aloft before her like one holding a vessel of wine, uncorking the phial and pouring three droplets of its contents into the white petals. Even from his vantage point on the ground, he could clearly see the red droplets in stark contrast to the pale petals, leaving a trail of black and decay when they trickled downward to the flower's center. "It's a delightful little concoction that turns the ordinary into the extraordinary. Behold!"

She threw the rose at him, stem end first, laughing as he cried out and leapt out of the way. Flares of pain shot through limbs that were only now just beginning to regain their strength. The Manticore poison had taken a greater toll on his body than he had realized and the antidote was still being administered to him to work against this.

But as he got back to his feet, he looked towards the rose only to find the stem buried deep into the ground. Thorny tendrils were sprouting from its base and the flower itself was growing, swelling, spreading. He recognized the motions and gasped in horror, raising his eyes to the she-demon floating oh so casually overhead.

"What have you done?!" He demanded, wide eyed.

His question was greeted with a cruel smile and narrowed eyes. "What does it look like I've done? I've birthed an Une. And not by my blood." She winked, waggling a finger at him. "I can't reveal all our secrets. It takes the fun out of our game. Will you survive this round, Belmont? Or will it be game over for you?"

Shrieking with laughter, she twisted elegantly, floating in a lazy circle before beating her wings and disappearing into the cloudless sky. Richter turned his attention to the writhing tendrils before him, watching with a heavy heart as the white rose throbbed and grew. A soft sigh broke the silence of the clearing, and two slender, delicate hands stretched out from the heart of the flower. Instants later it was blooming, revealing a small, delicate young woman perched in its center. She yawned, blinking owlishly, then settled her wide eyed gaze upon the tense hunter and smiled.

She was a beautiful little thing, but Richter knew better than to be deceived by her. Clapping her hands in silent delight, she raised an arm and pointed at him with a soft 'ah!' of excitement. Richter swore, leaping into the air and running as soon as his feet hit the ground again. It was a good thing that he did, for the same thorny tendrils that surrounded the base of the Une's rose had driven themselves into the ground and were now lurching up in places he had been standing only a split second before. They twisted and wriggled, showering the hunter with earth, thorns shimmering in the morning light. Grim faced, he whirled about, striking at them with Vampire Killer and severing many in the process. The delicate girl in the rose cried out in pain, looking at the fallen thorns with an expression of horror. She raised her eyes to the hunter, frowning darkly and thrust her hand out. Once again Richter was running to avoid the flailing tendrils.

He knew that she was a plant at the very end of it all, and that no matter how many tendrils he cut off, more would just replace them. A plant and a beast. He would have to strike the girl to truly do away with this creature. He continued to run, towards her this time rather than away from her, Vampire Killer's chain flashing in the morning light. The blow caught her across her fair chest, raising a dark green mark, akin to the bruises of a flower crushed underfoot. She whimpered, her soft voice pitiful and with tears in her eyes sent yet another wave of thorns at him.

Even as he leapt over and dodged these ones, the Une was not yet done with him. Three small white roses appeared between her fingers, and it was these that she threw at him whilst he ran. He cried out sharply as two of them met their mark; one barbed deep into his shoulder, the other in his leg. The girl clapped, a sound like a babbling brook escaping her lips. It was laughter. Delighted laughter.

Whilst the tendrils flailed viciously around him, Richter proceeded to hurriedly rip one flower from his leg. Glancing towards the plant demon again, he saw she was already preparing a fresh attack against him and had no choice but to run again. Even as he did, a sharp, agonizing pain made itself known in his shoulder, his lips parting in a scream of agony as the white rose darkened; the petals slowly but surely turning a deep, blood red. The creature was draining him, of strength and blood, so as to heal its own wounds. Already the green mark across its breast had disappeared.

With a trembling hand, he tore the bloodied rose from his shoulder, feeling a rush of weakness and nausea overcome him once the stem was clear of his flesh. He dropped to his knees, breathing heavily, blackness wavering across his vision before suddenly becoming aware of the tendrils that lay just below the ground. Cursing heavily, he rolled to the side, just as the first came bursting out of the ground, followed by another and another. He kept on rolling, away from the creature, until no more came after him.

Getting quickly to his feet, he lunged at the Une again, striking hard and fast. The green wounds reappeared on her flesh, she clutched at her throat, whimpering as sticky green sap poured from it. Seizing the opportunity, he struck again and again and again until the creature let out an anguished gargle and he was knocked off his feet by one of the flailing tendrils. There was obvious fear in the delicate girl's eyes as she clutched at her wounds, examined the sap with horror. With another gargle, the thorns ceased their attack upon the hunter and turned upon their master, forming a cage around her so that the hunter's whip might no longer bring her grief.

Richter growled in frustration, lashing out at the protective cage she had made for herself, only to swear as one of the tendrils left the group and shot at him. He ducked and it buried itself into a nearby tree, twisting and flailing, but unable to free itself. Getting to his feet, he frowned. There would be no way he could cut the blasted thing, it would just grow back and rejoin the circle of thorns in protecting the Une. He would have to pin down all, or at least most of, the tendrils to get at the young woman herself. If he could just make a large enough gap in her shield, he would be able to finish her off.

The Une was watching him with terrified eyes, more roses growing from between her delicate fingers. She cast them at him with a whimper, but they were quickly batted away by the Holy Whip. He circled her slowly, watching her between the writhing green bars, watching her eyes and the fear and desperation that were beginning to show. She looked like a woman but acted like a child. He hoped his slow, deliberate movements would be enough to terrify her into doing something rash.

A few minutes later, he got his wish. The girl in the rose fidgeted nervously, crying out every time Richter lunged at her vines but did not strike. Eventually, she got so panicky and nervous, that when he made to lunge again, she shrieked, raising both hands, and pointed at him. All the bars of her little cage flew at him, and at once he was rolling out of the way and running towards her, hand tense around Vampire Killer.

He struck and struck again, but still she refused to fall, even with all the wounds upon her small body. She was weeping and it was a pitiful sound, her body broken and mangled, the pale green sap pouring from her wounds. Richter was exhausted. All the leaping, running, attacking. He did not know if he would have the strength to last another round. He had to finish this and it had to be _now_. Even as the thorns were once again sliding into place around her rose, he hacked and slashed at her, hoping desperately it would be enough to finish her. But even as he continued his assault, one long, snaking tendril whipped out, striking him viciously across the face and sending him spinning away.

He fell with a rather hard thud, blood pouring from the horizontal gash across his cheek. It was not deep, but it was painful. He vaguely wondered if the Une's thorns were poisoned too.

The creature itself was watching him with angry eyes and a pout across its lovely lips. The tendrils were lowered, but he found that pulling himself back to his feet was a grueling task. His arms felt like lead weights as he lifted Vampire Killer again and took a few steps towards her. He had to finish this. Now, now. Soon he would not have the strength to go on.

It was then that the Une let out a terrible scream as something shot across the clearing and embedded itself into her side. Richter gasped and lurched back, surprised by this sudden attack. A crossbow bolt, wrapped in an oiled cloth. He realized that the bolt had little flickers of pale orange fire lighting it, fire that was spreading to the Une's flesh, blazing into life the moment it caught upon the sap that poured form her body. Within moments she was a twisting figure in a flaming rose, tendrils lashing at the sudden blaze, only to be caught and reduced to cinders as well. She would be no more than ash in a handful of minutes.

He looked across the clearing to where the shot had come from, surprised to find the hedgewitch with a satchel slung over her shoulder and a crossbow in her ruined hand. She ignored the Une completely and stumbled up to him, lifting his chin so that she could examine the gash on his cheek.

"There is an irritant in those thorns that will have you tearing at the wound whilst you try to sleep…" she said softly, frowning. "Quickly, come inside. We need to wash it out." Without waiting for an answer or heeding any of the questions he asked, she tossed her crossbow aside and dragged him back into the cottage.

--

The remainder of the day was spent over a cup of tea, with the hunter pressed into describing every detail of his encounter with the Une and the Succubus to the hedgewitch. As she listened to his tale unfold, her expression only grew darker and graver. Once he was done, she checked his wound again, slathering it with a sort of balm, and warned him not to touch it.

"It can get much worse than it already is. A little itch turns into a tearing fire that has you ripping the flesh from your body if you scratch it long enough. I've seen enough villagers die from little Une wounds than anything else." She stood up, picking along her shelves for something and returning with a small jar of tiny leaves. They were dried, of course, and looked as though they would crumble into powder with the slightest touch.

"These will help the wound heal faster." She said softly, crumbling a pinch into his teacup. "Make sure you drink it all and quickly. It is quite bitter and the taste tends to linger." She gazed at him silently while he drank, her face the very picture of misery. "Forgive me, traveler."

He looked up from his cup, blinking owlishly at the sudden fogginess that was clouding his eyes. "Hedgewitch, what…?" He blinked again, shaking his head, trying to clear his rapidly blurring vision. With a groan, he slumped forward, hearing a roaring noise in his ears, the world around his spinning and quickly turning black. Still, even as the cup dropped from his hand and he felt a faint thud as his body hit the floor, the witch's whispered words were loud in the quiet room.

"I do it for your safety. Please, forgive me."

--

_When he opened his eyes, he was laying spread eagled in a circle of carcasses. He blinked, confused, sitting up and glancing around. He recognized this scene from a dream before, remembered the sky rent with holes and blood pouring from the heavens above. The carcasses were those of monsters, the same monsters that he remembered slaying only moments ago. Vampire Killer lay in his outstretched hand. He got to his feet and stepped out of the ring, looking around in surprise._

_The sky was still wounded, but out of those wounds poured weak shafts of blue light. Intrigued, he wandered this dark abyss, his shadow long as he passed by those circles of light, the Holy whip coiled and ready in his hand. A low sob alerted him to another presence in the darkness and he was immediately tense and on his guard. Yet the noise was soft and heart-wrenching, the sound of a woman mourning in the deep abyss of night._

_He gazed ahead and saw that in a particularly large halo of light, a monstrous demon lay crouched and bent, its body composed of flame, its visible skin red-gold. It had a face like a leering animal's skull, two long horns protruding just above where the ears should have been, its eye sockets empty and hollow. Golden claws were bound behind its wide back with a sort of smoky, insubstantial wisp that had the vague form of manacles and chain. Its flame hued body was bound much the same way, trussed like a pig._

_It was silent, its head lowered, its fearsome jaws parted, displaying row upon row of golden teeth. It took him a moment to realize that the soft weeping was coming from that brutal maw, that tears were building in the corners of those dark eye sockets, only to travel down the beast's snout and fall with a soft hiss upon the illuminated ground._

_Whatever manner of creature this was, it did not notice him beyond its pallid circle. It sobbed quietly, heartbreakingly. And at length, a soft voice slid from those parted jaws, though the creature's mouth did not move._

"_You drive me too hard, you bleed me too freely. I weep with agony and you care not." It was the voice of a woman, garbled and distorted with the flames of fire and the hiss of smoke, accompanied by the gravelly roar of a demon. It shifted in its smoky chains, its movements like one trying to break them apart in bestial contrast to that indistinct voice._

"_You told me that you loved me, my lady." More tears slid down the beast's snout. "You told me that no harm would befall me. But he is breaking me, he is destroying me. Even in your embrace here and now, I feel like I am dying. I'm dying, my lady. And you say you will not raise a hand to my aid."_

_He noticed that the monster was quivering, that weak flames had ignited along its broad, strong back._

"_No more, my lady. I can take this no more. I do not share your dream! I love you, you and only you, but if this continues, if I continually come to harm…" another sob broke past the creature's maw. "… do you promise me? After tonight, everything will be as it was long ago?" A thoughtful silence. "Very well. Give me one more night. And then you shall have what you desire. He shall have what he desires. But never forget. I love you, my dear lady bat…"_

_The tears ceased to flow and the beast growled low in contentment. It raised its head slowly, looking beyond the circle for the first time. Upon seeing Richter the jaw snapped shut, the empty eyes piercing him, revealing the two pinpoints of fire deep within. It was as though a dormant creature had awoken, as though the voice that had been speaking was not the monster's own. Fury radiated from it and it struggled against its chains, a fierce roar escaping it as it rose up upon the insubstantial wisp of its lower body and towered over him. Wrapped in its chains, it could not harm him, but the anger and hatred that rolled off the creature were enough to send him staggering backwards, away from the halo of light._

_Its former anguish and reasoning were gone now. It was just another mindless beast. Even as he drew Vampire Killer again, it shifted against its bonds and lunged at him, engulfing him in a whirlwind of fire. A hot, burning coil of air blew up around him and he cried out, desperately trying to shield his eyes from the flames. It was like fleeing the fire in his home all over again. He drew in a breath only to find thick smoke clouding his lungs, spears of pain shooting through him as the fire seared his skin…_

And then he woke, lurching up, choking and coughing and gasping for breath. The soft crackle of a fire was nearby, but a chill wind told him that he was out in the open. He looked around, realizing that he could not see the sky overhead. Only trees. Trees that grew tall and high, stretching to the heavens. And around their bases was the usual scattering of shrubbery, smaller plants and thorns. The hedgewitch was seated before the fire, her sleeves trailing in the leaf litter. She looked up at him as he turned his gaze upon her, her good eye filled with sorrow. There were deep wounds in the marred side of her body, wounds that were left unbound. They had saturated her robe with blood.

"Welcome back, traveler." She said softly, rising to her feet and shuffling over to him. "Please, rouse yourself quickly. We do not have much time."

He was horrified by her appearance, enough so that the question of why she had drugged him and brought him out into the woods completely slipped from his mind. "You're injured!" He cried. "Hedgewitch, what happened to you?! Tell me what's going on!"

The herbalist smiled weakly, brushing a blood soaked lock of hair from her ruined eye. "You are in grave danger." She said softly, shaking her head. "There is an incubus making his way here right now to do away with you, now that he knows you live. In your state, even with Vampire Killer, I fear for you. He has made a pact with the devil and it will take far more than a normal attack to defeat him." She lowered her head. "As much as it sorrows me and pains me that this cannot be finished now, you must flee. Please, I beg you."

"But you…" he motioned to her wounds. "What of this? You're wounded…"

She shook her head, lightly touching her sleeve. "These are nothing. Mere cuts and grazes. They will heal, traveler. Worry not about me."

"I can stand up to any monster." Richter replied fiercely. "Let me help you! If your wounds are not seen to… you'll die!" Where were they? How had they managed to get so far out into the forest? Surely she had not carried him here. His mind whirled with the questions, but all that passed his lips was concern for the herbalist and her crippling injuries. But she smiled a ghost of a smile and shook her head, taking her satchel from where it lay beside her and pressing it into his hands.

"No. They will heal on their own. Trust me. Take this and run. " She lowered his head, watching him from beneath bloody bangs when he did not move. "It would be no use fighting him, traveler." She sighed. "He is no regular demon; there is old magic in his veins. Even with Vampire Killer you would be hard pressed to even wound him. He knows you have not fully recovered from the poison." To his surprise, tears were pooling in the corner of her good eye. "Please. Free my conscience from its dreary cell. Take flight and hide yourself in the town. Go through the forest where it is thickest so that you lose him." She sniffled, rubbing violently at her eye. "I brought you out here for a reason. He cannot tear your whereabouts from you if you do not know where you are yourself."

Richter stared at her, unsure of what she was telling him. "What are you saying, my lady…?"

"Run away lest he find you and tear you limb from limb. You cannot die, hunter! Not now, not this way!" she cried, her eyes wide and afraid as she stared up at him. Moments later they were calm once again, half hidden beneath the dark locks of her hair. "I beg of you." She said softly. "I have been a fool. If you flee, if you live, I will truly know that my brash actions are amended. That I will be forgiven for the weight of what I have done." She lifted her hand to her hood, drawing her raven from where it hid beneath the rough cloth. "Go now. Take Penna with you. Cut yourself a trail through the forest before hiding yourself in town. Penna can take you through the deepest parts unscratched and safe. He will no doubt follow you, but that incubus doesn't know the forest like Penna and I. Follow her, traveler. She will keep you safe."

"What of you?" He shook his head. "How will I know that you will come to no harm?"

The hedgewitch drew her robe closer around her shoulders. "My beloved will protect me. You have never seen, nor ever met, but… I will remain safe. Do not concern yourself with me. I have remained safe thus far and I know that I shall continue to, even now. A wound can heal and anger can fade given time. But time is running short for you and I and you must be on your way now. Go, dear traveler." She touched his cheek. "Consider this payment for the time you and I have shared. Run."

He clasped her hand in his own for the briefest instant. "I shall not forget this." He said softly. "Be safe, my friend."

And with that he had turned, following the raven as it croaked, slipping between the gnarled trunks of the trees. It was not long before the small circle of light that the fire had given off had disappeared. In the cold and the darkness, he ran after the bird, leaving the hedgewitch far behind.

--

It felt as though he had run for an eternity. Twisting between the trees and stumbling over the thorns. Penna always flew ahead, a blot of darkness against darkness, the raven's croaks and whistles the only thing guiding him. He followed her faithfully, assured by the hedgewitch's word that no harm would come to him.

Yet as they went on, the air grew cold. A white mist clouded the trees and everything around him. Once again he felt alone, though Penna was right there with him.

But then the raven suddenly died.

She gave no warning, no sign that she was in pain or ailing, but suddenly dropped out of the sky and fell at his feet with a wail of pure anguish. Even as he lurched forward and took the bird into his hands, the life dulled from its eyes. She went limp and lay silent. And the silence stretched and wound itself around him, the cold penetrating his body so deeply that he could not even shiver in retaliation.

Here he was, alone in the forest. Lost without a soul to guide him, with little food to keep him nourished. He should have been afraid. Yet there was no fear in him.

The cold was so deep, so chilling. How could he feel anything? He held the dead bird to his chest and quietly whispered a prayer. Not one for his own safety, but for the safety of the raven's master.

Tonight they would both need God's grace to see it through to the morning.

* * *

Reviews would be niiice :'D  
Keep me motivated, my lovelies! Things will only get more heated and interesting from this point forward!

And I actually mean it this time.


	11. Reunion

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania. This fic was written purely for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of all others who happen upon it and read. Fic contains yaoi, but there is none in this chapter. I warned you~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'll bet you can tell EXACTLY what happens in this chapter by looking at the title. You fans, you.  
Honestly, I found this chapter hard to write. It started off really slow, and just seems to be a bit... blah compared to some of the previous ones. I'll admit, most of it was just filler for the end and I'm not proud to announce that.  
Nonetheless. Whilst I have never tried switching instantly between forms on SotN, I get the feeling it can be done. So I did it.  
And forgive my lack of knowledge on sword jargon. This is the first time I've written a fight scene between two thinking people, rather than Richter against a monster Dx;

Nonetheless, enjoy~ I'm sure you've all waited long enough for me to get to this part.

* * *

_Reunion_

Billowing clouds of white, swirling and dancing no matter which direction he turned. Richter felt so weary, walking blindly through this bleak part of the forest, seeing only the barest shadow of trees no matter where he looked. Vampire Killer was in his hand, but his senses were dulled by the dancing white. Such was the mist of this wood. It was a cold mist. A draining mist. A disheartening mist.

How long had he walked? He had lost track of time for there was no sun here. No darkness. The swirling fog merely lightened half a shade then darkened half a shade. Was that because of the trees casting their shadows or was it truly day and night passing overhead? Why did the mist not dissipate? He could barely see his hand in front of him, and there was the constant fear that some beast might lurch out of the white cloud and ravage him with fang and claw… he had heard wolves in the forest, heard them prancing through the fog behind him, snuffling the ground for his scent. He could imagine their tongues lolling, their pants giving rise to even more white clouds to swirl about in this never ending twilight. He longed to see the sun again, not this strange mockery of light mist, dark mist.

And it was so cold! It did nothing for his memories. Remembering that terrible world, that terrible time where he was stranded between life and death… here in the wisp filled woods, he could not sleep without remembering those cold hands, those cruel fangs, the mocking laughter and the defiling… it plagued him and tormented his sleep until he began to walk between the two. Not awake, not asleep. Wishing to sleep with all his heart, but shunning the act for fear of that humiliation, of breaking again and again and again.

Was he going mad? Had this been the hedgewitch's intention the entire time? He could not help but wonder. How was it that she had known of Blackmoore? It had to be Blackmoore, of course. What other creature would come after him in a whirl of raging fury, a wrathful spite? No other demon would have such a personal quarrel with him. But how could she tell that he was an incubus? Surely no normal human could have thought such things, not even the superstitious. And where was Blackmoore now? The incubus must surely have been furious at his escape. How many days had passed since he had run at the herbalist's bidding? The way that she spoke, one could get through the deeper forest and find their way to the village in a matter of hours. But where was the village? Which way? He was not walking in circles, surely. He would have come across the raven's grave again.

This was dream eater country. Where were all the dream eaters? He had seen no succubae or incubi since he first began wandering on his own, aside from the one that had come up to the hedgewitch's cottage. And Blackmoore, of course. He vaguely wondered if to think the demon's name was to summon him. He had seen it happen in the past with lesser creatures… what if it was the same for incubi? It was an unnerving thought, so he stopped it instantly.

He paused for a time, sitting beneath a tree and flicking a damp strand of hair from his eyes. The constant mist had caused moisture to gather on his clothes, on his hair and skin. There was no way to dry himself, for the accursed fog continued to billow about and engulf everything. Until he could get clear of it, he would have to remain cold and damp. The food that he had been given was small consolation; he had devoured the bread and cheese first so that they would not go to waste in this damp atmosphere. Digging through the hedgewitch's satchel now, he removed a rather sorry heel of bread, also damp with the weather and ate it slowly, savoring every bite. It was to be his last for as long as he was stranded here. Now there were only a few pathetic little apples left and a few sticks of dried meat. The rest of the satchel's contents were small phials containing a few healing potions, bandages, herbs, a small mending kit, and a handful of tea leaves. Richter had felt a little guilt that he had checked the leaves carefully to make sure they were not of the same origin as the bitter ones the hedgewitch had drugged him with.

He could not help but wonder how much longer he would be out here, walking through the mist. He was running out of food. Water was no problem, at least. It was so quiet in the misty woods, he could easily hear water babbling and running through the little streams that hid amongst the trees. If it really came down to it, he could suck the moisture from his clothes, though the very idea did not sit too well with him. But he could not forage. How was it possible if he could barely see the trees a few feet away from him? He would have to crawl along the ground and search very carefully… and he was tired. Far too tired to do such a thing. Now that he was seated, somewhat full, all he wanted to do was to lie down and sleep…

His eyelids were heavy; he struggled to keep his dreams at bay. But after so long with no rest, the comfort of a good sleep got to him. Try as he might, he could not stop his eyelids from slipping shut. From his head falling forward, and slumber taking him to uneasy dreams.

He could have sworn he heard the panting of the monstrous wolf that had been tailing him, right before he slipped into the abyss.

--

It prowled the mist filled woods with its nose to the ground. Something smelled out of place here. Something was not right amongst the damp and the trees. It carried the reek of blood and devilry, but at the same time it contained another smell. A smell that the beast had not scented in such a long time, that its memory could not call up the image to go with it. Not knowing what lay in the mist made it irritable. It had been walking with the intent to find the cause of this scent, to kill whatever manner of creature had made it.

With a low growl, it continued to lope through the forest. Its prey was close by. To hunt, to kill. Such was the instinct of the wolf. Though many traveled in packs, this beast traveled alone, its silvery coat all but blending in with the surrounding mist. No blade would be needed here. It could hunt and prowl this way without fear. Its nose was far more sensitive than the eyes of any human, better still than the dream eaters that resided within the town and forest. It had grown so accustomed to the taste of devil's blood… that blood was all that it craved, all that it needed to sustain itself and its existence here in the white darkness.

It padded on, a raging thirst in its throat. A thirst it longed to slake.

--

"_Where are you, Belmont?"_

_It was a soft plea, a sweet plea. A voice so honeyed and beautiful that even in his exhausted state, Richter yearned to walk towards it. To tell it he was here, here in the dark. That he ached for company and felt at such a loss. He was tired of being cold, being wet, lost in a storm of white, feeling the pangs of hunger in his gut. He wanted company. To use his weary voice again_

"_Tell me where you are. I will come to you. I will find you and all will be well."_

_He looked around, trying to distinguish his surroundings, so that he could tell the voice just where he was. But he was surrounded by nothingness, a pitch black halo. He could see nothing. It was just like within the forest, except in the forest it was white. Here it was black, like a never ending night. He looked around, almost helplessly, his heart sinking._

"_I can see nothing all around." He said softly. "Forget me. There is no way you could find me here."_

"_Everything is black? Is that all you can see? Darkness, darkness, all around you?" The voice was getting closer. He looked around, sure he would see something or someone come out of the shadows at any instant. Caution drove him to place a hand on his belt, where the reassuring handle of Vampire Killer lay. "Don't shun it, Belmont. You should welcome it. It is not a bad thing."_

_He frowned. "Not a bad thing?" He muttered. "I do not see how that can be. The darkness has brought me no consolation since I first seeped my soul in it. Even then I was taking it too far. Why fall even deeper? I will not be remembered for any glorious deed I performed." He hung his head. "No, all that they shall remember me for is how I shamed the Belmont name. How I forsook my duty for power, a power that controlled me." _

_A power that broke me. Again and again and again. _

_He trembled at the memory, feeling sickened with himself. "I may have done the darkness a great favor, but it has paid me no such thing in kind."_

_The voice had fallen silent, almost thoughtful. "Now that's no way to look at it…" it purred. He looked around again, almost certain that its speaker was almost upon him. "It can give you back what you have lost. It can make you whole again."_

"_I would rather be broken and left in the light than whole within the darkness." He replied bitterly, cutting the voice off from any further speech. "There is nothing here for me, can you not understand? I want to be away from this evil, away from this night. If you cannot leave me be, then I want nothing to do with you either."_

"_Such harsh words…" the voice crooned. "But ah, you are wrong, Belmont. There is someone waiting for you in the darkness. I am sure of it." The shadows parted before him, a slender, beautiful figure rising out of the gloom. Her eyes shone brightly and she walked with high, dainty steps. A radiant smile spread across her face as their eyes met, she curtsied to him with a soft laugh. "See?" She nodded. "I'm here. I'm waiting for you."_

"_No…" He replied, feeling a sick lurch in his heart. "No! I refuse to believe it! You cannot be! No!!!" He was trembling; he could not even pull Vampire Killer from his side. This had to be a lie. An illusion. This could not be. She had died, her soul gone to heaven. There was no way that she could continue to live._

_But before him stood his own beloved Annette, preserved in all her beauty and charm. She smiled again, eyes earnest._

"_Think upon our proposal." She said softly, nodding to him. "If your heart truly wishes to see me again, you can always find me in your dreams."_

And with that he awoke, a sharp cry parting his lips, his hands atremble from something more than the cold.

--

The hunter looked around at the vague silhouettes of the trees through the clinging fog. Was he imagining things or was the mist finally thinning? The fact that he could see anything beyond his nose made him marvel. Walking through the forest had been like walking blind; he was thankful that nothing had attacked him in that time, although the panting of the wolf had unnerved him most of the way.

He had not heard the beast in quite some time, but that might have been his own fault. Ever since he had had that dream, his mind and heart were occupied. Annette. Could the darkness really have claimed her? To his knowledge, the werewolves had devoured her along with the men she had traveled with. And the incubi and succubae ran rampant in this part of the forest… how could he be sure it wasn't just a ploy to dishearten him and throw him off?

The more he thought about it, the more anxious he grew. He could not sleep for fear of the truth in her words. Once again he was prowling the forest with hunger knotting his gut and sleep heavy upon his eyes. He could not defend himself this way, and he knew it. Now that the mist was thinning, there would be something more lying out there in the forest, the beasts would be easier to see and should any of them attack…

He groped at his side for the holy whip, smiling bitterly as his fingers closed about the handle. Yes, he would still be able to keep himself safe. So long as his tiredness would not drag him to an early grave. One could never be too careful out in monster territory. But exhaustion made his limbs heavy. He yawned, breath escaping him in a white cloud. It grew colder every day, and he had only the clothes upon his back to warm him. Perhaps the seasons were turning again, bringing the cold, cruel winter. If this was so, he would have to find his way out of this forest, and quickly. But perhaps it was just the mist that threw the extra element over him. He was tired of being cold and damp. He wanted to be away from here.

It was by luck that he stumbled across a hollow beneath one of the twisting trees. He would not have looked down at all if he had not stood on the bones of some poor beast. The sharp crunch beneath his foot had startled him and he had lifted it quickly only to be confronted with what looked to be a very human skeleton. But after a moment's examination, he realized that there were too many bones, that some formed wings and a tail. No, this was the long forgotten remains of a lascivious demon. There were marks upon it that showed some hungry thing had devoured the flesh, but as he looked around for any other clues as to how the thing had died, he had found the hollow.

It seemed comfortable in comparison to the damp grass he had been sleeping upon with all its hidden stickers and briars. The hollow itself had been filled with grass at some point, but the grass had dampened and shriveled. It looked to be the lair of some creature, but it was a lair long grown cold. Richter was sure that he could rest here and be safe, that no animal would come out of the fog and attack him whilst he slept.

As he slipped into the hollow, he caught sight of a small vine of wild berries twined around one of the tree's large roots. A faint smile crossed his lips as he plucked one and ate it; surely this was a good sign.

Making himself as comfortable as he could, he pulled Vampire Killer from his belt and rested the whip beside his head, closing his eyes a moment later. Sleep came quickly and with it, the unsettling thought of meeting his dead beloved once again.

--

"_Oh, Belmont! I was beginning to wonder if you would ever return!"_

_Richter opened his eyes slowly, surrounded by the familiar circle of black. Annette stood across from him, her smile bright and cheerful. He appeared calm, though within his mind he was trying to work something out. Annette seemed so stiff, so formal. And why did she keep calling him Belmont? Surely they had been more intimate than that…_

_She bridged the gap between them and placed two fine, delicate hands on his shoulders, gazing deeply into his eyes. She was smiling, her eyes were shining… but something was missing. Even as she pulled him close in her embrace, it did not have the familiar warmth that he had once felt long ago._

"_I so hoped you would return." She said softly, nuzzling his hair. "I missed you."_

_He remained silent, closing his eyes as she petted his hair and kissed his cheek. There was a sensuality in the gesture, but nothing more. No warmth, no former echo of love. Why would she come running back to his arms? It made no sense after watching her flee him, with all her terror and panic. Did she really love him that much to make a deal with the darkness to return? Hadn't he taught her better than that…?_

"_Tell me." He said softly. "You seem so happy within the darkness. Why is that so, Annette? Were you not happy with the light? With me?"_

_She tilted her head slightly, a puzzled expression crossing her face. "What do you mean, Belmont? The darkness has made me happy. It gave me the second chance I needed to come and find you."_

"_Stop that." He growled._

_She looked hurt. "What is wrong? What have I done?"_

"_Why are you being so formal?" He replied. "The Annette I knew never called my by my last name. We grew up together in the same village; we knew each other since we were children! There was never any formality between us, never any distance." His hesitation and worry had become something else. He saw this creature for what it was, where its flaws lay and it infuriated him. He thrust the woman away from him and drew Vampire Killer from his belt._

"_You are not the woman I loved." He growled, his voice dripping with malice and fury. "How dare you! How dare you soil her memory with your weak advances!!" He cracked the holy whip viciously. "What are you?! You are not Annette!" He would have screamed 'Give her back to me!' but he knew more than anyone else that it was an empty wish. Annette was dead. To want her now would only mean to be seduced by the darkness. It was a path he could not walk._

_The young woman had backed away from him, afraid, but as he spoke a cruel smile had appeared across her face._

"_I figured…" she said softly. "That if I couldn't tear your whereabouts from you, I could at least have some fun with you and take your soul." She pouted. "But it would seem…" she trailed off, blinking in surprise. "Wait. No…!" She took a step backward, cringing, her hands shielding her face. "S-stop! Please, no!!!"_

_Her form flickered, revealing a dark haired girl with wide golden eyes. Two black wings sprouted from her back, fangs appearing against her soft lips. Richter stared, wondering what on earth was happening._

_Yet even as he watched, the she-demon flickered again. Something, a shadow within the shadows, was running at her. A shadow with a blazing pinpoint of light for an eye. The succubus shrieked as it vaulted through the air and landed upon her, snarling viciously. Whatever this shadow was, its powerful jaws locked around the she-demon's neck and tore out her throat in an instant._

_The darkness dissolved instantly now that the demon was felled. It became a swirling white mist, but a mist that was filled with light. It almost blinded Richter and took him a few moments to adjust to the sudden brightness._

_Through the swirling fog he could vaguely make out the shape of an enormous silver wolf, its muzzle black with blood. It met his gaze with golden eyes and held it, before turning away and trotting off into the cloud once again. The hunter watched it go, confused and surprised._

_There was another out there, hunting the dream eaters? And it was a beast at that…?_

--

He awoke the next morning feeling refreshed, but still puzzled over the past night's dream. The white wolf remained burned in his memory, its golden eyes somehow familiar. Either way, the beast had saved him. The realm of dreams was a dangerous place, and even he wasn't sure he could properly take on a succubus in her element with only anger fuelling him. He clutched at the tail end of that dream all morning, as he picked the small stalk of berries clean, as he picked up his satchel and headed on through the mist again.

At least one thing was certain; Annette was not in the hands of darkness.

--

A very weak, watery light had managed to filter through the mist.

Richter blinked, looking around, noticing for the first time that the cloud had dissipated to a thin veil. He could see trees and grass and the distance in front of him quite clearly now. The sun was low upon the horizon and sinking quickly. He could see it through the thinning trees. He was almost out of this miserable forest.

He could not stop the smile from creasing his lips. Could not help but laugh for joy. After being in the damp, the cold, surviving only on the handful of food that he had been given before tragedy struck… he would finally be out. Freedom was just beyond the trees.

Vampire Killer was tucked securely into his belt. He hefted his satchel and quickened his steps toward the rapidly fading light.

It was then that he noticed a thicker cloud of mist separate itself from one of the trees and waft lazily into his path. He thought nothing of it and continued to walk, half running towards his destination now.

The mist shimmered, twisting and turning, writhing into something else entirely. He did not even have time to stop as it flew towards him, shivering, and materialized into the form of a great, white wolf. The beast caught him in mid leap with a snarl of anger.

Richter cried out in surprise, pinned beneath the beast's body. The monstrous wolf lunged for his throat, snapping and snarling in fury. He could not grab Vampire Killer in time and found his hands grasping at those slavering jaws, prying them apart and pushing them away, doing everything humanly possible to stop the creature from biting through his neck. It was a powerful beast; that much was certain, but he was also a powerful man and he somehow managed to turn it, striking out at the beast with his fists. The wolf leapt backwards, giving Richter the chance to get back to his feet and draw Vampire Killer.

He held the whip aloft, threateningly, watching the creature with narrowed eyes as it began to circle him, growling low in its throat. Much to his surprise, he saw that there was a belt and chain around the wolf's chest; and from it hung a sheathed sword. It was no ordinary wolf. He had never come across such a manner of creature in all his time as a hunter. The beast growled low again and Richter prepared himself for its strike.

However, it was not a wolf that he blocked with the holy whip when it lunged.

Rather, a man.

It all seemed to happen so slowly. One moment the beast was leaping with a snarl of anger, the next it was shimmering and twisting, paws becoming hands, body rigid and tense beneath a dark, dark cloak. Silver-blonde hair streamed out from the fair head, the locks framing a beautiful, aristocratic face marred only by anger. The snarl became a roar in an all too human voice, four pointed fangs revealed amongst the bared teeth. The silver sword was in his hand, he was swinging it down to meet with the silver chain of Richter's own weapon.

_There is a demon in the woods to the north. A beautiful, beautiful demon in the form of a man. _

The hedgewitch's words returned to him in a rush. He was so surprised at this sudden turn that he could not deflect the shock that the blow left him with. The dhampire's strike sent him tumbling backwards, but he was on his feet again in an instant, his eyes wide, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest. He knew this man from a time he still wished he could forget. He owed his life to this man, who had wrenched him from the hands of darkness.

"Alucard?!" He gasped.

"Enough!" The rich, smooth voice was enough to send chills down his spine. "Why will you not learn?!" The barely restrained fury sent a thrill of dread through the hunter; something was not right. The dhampire would not cease his attack. "I will destroy you and all else who come at me in your form, demon. I will show you no mercy!!" His voice was touched with the barest hint of anguish.

And with that he was lunging forward again, the Alucard sword singing in his hand. Wide eyed and confused, Richter leapt backwards, avoiding those lightning fast strikes, twisting out of the way and dodging to the best of his ability.

"Wait!" He cried, deflecting a blow with the handle of his whip. "I do not want to fight you!!"

If he had hoped for the onslaught to cease, he was sadly mistaken. Alucard merely snarled, lunging at him again with vehemence. Richter blocked yet another strike, only to be cuffed across the head by the dhampire's free hand. He staggered from the blow, casting his whip out just in time as Alucard lunged at him yet again. It was the other man's turn to go on the defensive, pulling back and throwing his cloak up in front of him to deflect the blow. The golden eyes behind the swath of black glowed menacingly in the fresh night air. Richter realized that in order to get the dhampire to listen to him, he would have to disarm him at the least, or defeat him at the worst. Any blood drawn would be an unavoidable casualty. But why was Alucard attacking him in the first place?

The other man flicked his blade, and the hunter took up a fighting stance. The two circled each other slowly, eyes warily upon each other. Richter would not be the first to strike, Alucard was remaining characteristically silent. His look was somewhat less threatening, like a man who had finally found a worthy opponent and was determined to best him. It was now a test of strength, rather than an anger fuelled slaughter.

Richter recalled a time where they had fought in the past. He knew with the dhampire that this would be an honorable duel. Alucard was not one for trickery or foul play; he had been raised too well for such things. All the same, he was a formidable opponent, an expert with the sword… he had bested Richter before, but it had been to save the hunter's life. He did not know if Alucard's skill with a blade had increased since then.

The dhampire lunged, feinted, struck out at the hunter's side. His movements were so quick, so fluid and graceful… had he been a spectator to this fight, Richter would not have been able to tear his eyes away. He could not tear his eyes away in his current situation, but it was for a very different reason. He could feel the point of that slender sword nick the heavy material of his coat and he mentally cursed. After such a long time wandering disorientated in the woods, unable to see anything before him, his reflexes had dulled considerably.

He struck as Alucard pulled back, forcing the dhampire to twist and sidestep to avoid him. Narrowing his eyes in determination, Richter stepped forward, lashing out with the holy whip, keeping the other man dodging and twisting. He left no opening, no time for retaliation, but a sudden pang in his shoulder made him flinch and hesitate for a mere instant. That was all that the dhampire needed. He turned on Richter, striking hard and fierce, raining the sword-blows down upon the other man.

So they danced throughout the night. Neither one gained the upper hand on the other; their movements were fast and hard, trying each other. Testing each other. Richter could not remember the last time he felt such a thrill from battle. This was not a monster; this was another man. Alucard could think on his feet, act with lightning swiftness, his enhanced senses and movement giving him an extra edge that Richter struggled with.

As the night wore on, the hunter began to feel weariness in his limbs. Worry set his heart beating furiously. He was tiring. And if he gave in and fell, the dhampire would kill him. An honorable, quick death, but a death all the same. He did not know how much longer he could last.

But looking up, he could see that the dhampire was also reaching his limit. Nothing would show upon his face, it was as cold and expressionless as it always had been, but the swing of his sword was a little off, his footing becoming sloppy. They were both tired. But neither of them would surrender and give in to the other.

And so they fought on as the moon rose brightly overhead. Silver moonbeams pierced through the trees, creating pools of light as the two men continued to duel. Richter cursed softly to himself, for the light seemed to empower the dhampire and Alucard was striking out at him with more force. He evaded the blows, though his body was aching from the effort. He could not lose this fight… he could not…!

The dhampire twisted, lashing out with his sword, Richter barely avoiding the strike by ducking under it. He stumbled backwards and felt a thrill of horror as his foot caught on a protruding tree root. Even as he overbalanced and fell back, the other man lunged at him, bringing his sword down.

Richter groaned as his head hit the ground, but he brought the handle of Vampire Killer up just in time. There was a dull thud as the silver sword struck his whip, the blade positioned just above his throat.

Deep blue eyes met fierce golden, determination brimming in them. His arm trembled, but he continued to hold his whip against the sword in a final act of defense. Alucard was all but atop him, using the weight of his body to slowly but surely push his own weapon down, lower and lower, towards the hunter's neck. Richter grunted with the strain, willing his arm to stay strong, to protect him from this final misfortune. He could not die here, at the hands of Dracula's son.

But his strength was no match for Alucard's. He looked like an angel of death there in the moonlight, his face betraying no emotion, the only sign of his struggle the breath that escaped him. Richter closed his eyes and turned his head, feeling the merest whisper of silver upon his neck. The point of the sword was biting into his skin, he tried to push the blade away but found he could not. A thin trickle of blood ran down his throat. Was this how it was to end?

And then suddenly the blade was gone and Alucard was sitting back, on his thighs, no less. His arm, now freed of the pressure of the sword, lurched forward, the chain catching the dhampire across his cheek. Alucard flinched, but slowly shook his head in wonder, as though seeing the other man for the first time. Richter gazed up into those golden eyes, truly bewildered, raising his hand to his throat. The wound stung, but thankfully it was not too deep.

His fingers came away red. And suddenly he realized what had made the dhampire stop his attack. His blood. The blood of the Belmont clan. Surely Alucard had recognized the familiar scent the moment it had begun to flow.

Golden eyes met his own, true emotion spilling across his face for the first time. Awe and surprise, guilt and regret all mingled in those glowing eyes. He shook his head again, amazed and disbelieving. One glove clad hand reached out to touch the hunter's cheek in reassurance.

"Belmont…?" The single word parted his lips, but it was spoken softly with no trace of malice.

* * *

And so the REAL adventure begins~  
R&R, chaps. I need your comments to continue writing ;A;


	12. Beginnings

DISCLAIMER: Adrian here doesn't own Castlevania. Adrian is writing this story for his own amusement. Adrian likes yaoi and this story will have some at a MUCH later chapter, but he should probably warn you about it anyway and will do so.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Firstly, let me apologize for not having this chapter up by last Saturday like I'd told everyone on LJ Dx; I got stuck.  
Secondly, I'd appreciate it if there weren't any more 'CAN'T WAIT FOR YAOI! 8D' comments from this point forward. Its really off putting and makes me as though I'm surrounded by a pack of horny fangirls who are just skim reading everything to get to the good bits. I know this probably isn't the case with most of you, but I'm writing this for the romance, not the sex, afterall D: You know that, right?

That aside, I'll admit that I had trouble writing Alucard's personality in this chapter. Wasn't sure how distant to make him, or how talkative, so hopefully I've balanced everything out right Dx;  
Also, I'm not sure if I was abusing his other forms. I know things can get ridiculous with Adrian transforming every two seconds, so I've tried to limit his transformations to an all time low. Hopefully I was successful.

Nonetheless, read on~ Apologies once again for the delay Dx

* * *

_Beginnings_

The moonlight shone brightly overhead, casting the cliffs and valleys below in brilliant silver light. The only things marring this peaceful landscape were two moonlit figures, their shadows long in the early hours of the night. The mist had dissipated long ago, and the path along the cliff that the two men now walked was wide enough so that neither of them would be too close to the crumbling edge. It was an old path, very seldom used, and even then only by the dream eaters who glided and the dhampire who normally fluttered over on silent black wings.

Richter was weak with shock at this strange turn of events. He had never really thought upon the warning that the hedgewitch had given him, never dreamed that the demon she had spoken of would be this man… but though his heart was overjoyed at finding a familiar face, he could not help but to feel a thrill of terror as well. If Alucard was awake and walking amongst men, there had to be disaster approaching. Two years ago he had risen from eternal slumber and fought back against Dracula when Richter had been captured. Had he not appeared… the hunter was sure that the world would have fallen into ruin.

He shivered at the thought, stumbling upon a rock buried in the road. The dhampire looked over his shoulder at him, his feelings hidden beneath the mask of his calm face. Seeing that Richter had come to no harm, he turned away, quickening his steps very slightly.

"Keep up, Belmont." He said softly. "The path is most treacherous here."

The hunter glared at the back of his head, hurrying a little so as to keep close to the other man. He and Alucard had never been close, but it was the dhampire's grace and nature that irked him right now. The smooth, rich voice was accented with a noble's air, he held himself proudly as a noble would. Richter knew that it was just in Alucard's nature to be grave and distant, but here and now it seemed… condescending. Did Alucard really feel no joy at all upon seeing a familiar face again? He had been so frigid. Nothing had changed between them at all.

Once over the initial shock of finding that it was a Belmont that he had been confronted with, the surprise in those golden eyes had faded once again into something unreadable. He had gotten to his feet and held out a hand to help Richter up. He had kindly retrieved the hunter's satchel, and dosed him with the potion to heal his injuries. That one slight whip cut in the dhampire's cheek still remained; he declined all attempts to even clean the wound. Immortal or not, Richter was sure that the bite of a silver tipped whip would hurt him more than an average weapon. But as he said, he had known the lash of Vampire Killer before… it was his penance to bear the wound, for acting so rashly.

"Forgive my actions, Belmont." He had spoken so softly, Richter struggled to hear the words as he set about repacking the satchel. "I had lost hope that it would be you that I encountered on my travels."

The hunter had been puzzled by such words, yet Alucard offered no further explanation. The dhampire had then turned away, began walking in the direction Richter had just come from, pulling the silver sword from its scabbard. The hunter had called out to him, asked where he was going, but the other man never even turned. He paused; looking towards the woods, then spoke in his soft, precise manner.

"There are still others enshrouded in mist." He looked over his shoulder. "I intend to do away with them."

Richter gaped at him. "But you…" he touched his cheek.

The dhampire raised a hand to his own face, looking at his fingers in the dappled moonlight. "It is a scratch. Nothing more. It will not hinder me in any way." He turned fully, surveying the other man with those calm golden eyes. Richter, exhausted and famished from his trials through the forest. Richter, with wounds still healing from his own blade. The dhampire closed his eyes for a few moments, serene and thoughtful. Richter would never ask for help. If he remembered correctly, the other man was much too proud for that…

"… Don't go, Alucard."

His eyes had snapped open, surprise glimmering within them for half an instant before it was gone again. He looked at the hunter, waiting for an explanation.

"I…" The other man hesitated. "I know that you are finding your task difficult, just as I am." His gaze became challenging. "We are two men, fighting for the same cause. Do you think it was fate that drew us here? Surely… the two of us meeting again like this cannot be chance." He lowered his gaze. "And now you're just going to leave me as you found me? Has the Belmont clan truly become so worthless that their aid is no longer needed in such dark times?!"

Alucard blinked at the note of anguish in his voice, gazing at him silently for a long, long moment. With languid ease he sheathed his sword and strode back to the hunter, golden orbs piercing deep blue. "This is not the place to speak of such things." He said softly. Pulling his gaze away, he headed towards the open air. "Come, Belmont. We need to discuss this properly."

--

And so, as the two of them had stepped out of the forest, Richter was surprised to find that they were up high on the outer edges of a rocky, cliff-like landscape. Untouched wilderness lay in the valleys below, all caressed by the silver hand of the moon. It was a breathtaking sight, but the hunter had no time to enjoy the scenery.

The dhampire moved as quickly and silently as a ghost. He was clearly unused to having anyone accompany him. Richter was practically running to keep up with him at first, but the sound of the hunter's loud footfalls made him slow down. It was not long before the two of them were walking at a more comfortable pace.

But even as they walked together, it was in silence. Alucard was slightly ahead of him, the back of his head barely visible behind the high collar of his cloak, locks silvered in the moonlight tumbling down his back. Even now, he was still the same. He was not a menacing being, but one that could instill fear into his enemies with a mere look from those golden orbs. Richter could not help but feel a little uneasy in his presence; any hopes of a joyful reunion had been shattered by the reaction Alucard had given him. But then again, Alucard was not like any man he had ever met; always stoic and silent. He would have to learn to accept that as long as he was in the dhampire's company.

Yet it was still a sorrowing thought. It was almost as though he had never found companionship; as though he were still alone though another man walked beside him.

Hanging his head, he kicked at a pebble on the path, watching as it skittered in front of him, only to bounce off the edge of the ridge in front of them. The drop down was incredibly far. He wondered how long it would take until they reached whatever destination the dhampire had in mind.

Ahead of him, Alucard cursed softly. He looked up and quickly saw why.

Before them floated a host of beings; the bones of small creatures wreathed in spectral flame, skeletal heads imbued with blue, red pinpoints of light shining in their empty eye sockets. Drifting lazily behind them all was a death's head bigger than the rest, its one crimson eye glowing in the moonlight. It clacked its jaw, its mouth spread in a mockery of a grin. The smaller phantoms followed suit, the flame red ghosts letting out wails of delight.

Richter drew Vampire Killer from his belt and cracked the whip in hopes of scaring a few of the smaller creatures off, but none of them were moved. Alucard stood a little way in front of him, his fingers tight around a fistful of his cloak. The giant ghost clacked its jaw again and without a sound, the ghosts flew forward.

The hunter ran to the dhampire's side, twirling his whip expertly. As the silver chain struck the little spirits, they wailed again, disintegrating into nothing. Yet for every one he struck down, more flew in to take its place. The ghosts were closing in on them, surrounding them, and still the dhampire held his ground and did nothing, watching them with narrowed eyes. Richter glanced over at him, viciously lashing out at a ghost that was close enough to be chewing on his coat collar. They were too close. Much too close.

"What are you waiting for?!" He cried, striking out at the ghosts. He spun the whip before him and the spirits backed away, most getting their bones struck off in the whirling chain. Soft wails filled the air, the clacking of jaws responding in outrage.

The dhampire ignored him, keeping his eyes upon the fiends before him, stern and silent. Pulling the cloak against his body, he swung his arm out in a wide arc. Richter blinked, unnerved by the firelight glow that seemed to come from somewhere between that outspread arm in the black expanse of the heavy cloth. Yet surprise soon turned to wonder as a barrage of flames burst forth, raining down upon the spirits who were too close to pull back and avoid its range. Many of them shrieked, backing away in a hurry as the fierce light made their ghostly forms transparent and invisible, scorched their spectral bones. And Alucard drew his sword and tore through them, his eyes locked upon the giant death's head at the centre of the swarm.

"If we destroy the large one, the small ones will leave us be." He called to the hunter. "Don't let it escape."

Richter nodded, dashing down the path through the legions of spirits, striking out at them as they wailed in disarray. The dhampire was not too far ahead of him, the great ghost watching their progress with its cruel red eye. It clacked its massive jaw again, more spirits materializing out of the darkness, behind them this time, cutting off any retreat they might have had. The hunter looked over his shoulder and cursed, hurrying to catch up with the other man. As he turned back, the night brightened with the glow of firelight, but the creatures wouldn't be surprised a second time. Many of them fell beneath Alucard's attack, but at the clacking of the great ghost's jaw, more filled their places.

"Alucard!" The hunter looked about desperately. "There's too many of them! I… I don't think we'll be able to catch that big one unawares."

The dhampire glared at the giant ghost hovering just out of reach, but he knew the other man was right. There would only be one thing to do now. Break through the circle of fiends and run. He looked at the spirits coming at his left, those at his right and those before him. They were easy enough to destroy, but there were so many of them…

"Belmont." He felt his back bump against the hunter's as the ring of ghosts closed in on them. "Listen to me carefully." He paused as Richter lashed out, twirling the silver chain to keep the fiends at bay. "I want you to run. Right through the ghosts that block our path onwards."

"You're asking me to kill myself. They'll devour me alive."

"Hush. I won't allow that to happen. If ever you trusted me, Belmont, trust in me now." He faced the ring of spirits again, sheathing his sword, clasping his cloak tightly in both hands. "Ready? Now, run!"

Richter thought it was truly madness to throw himself upon a pack of vicious spirits, but Alucard must have had some plan in mind. He whirled on his feet, throwing the whip out one last time before rushing past the dhampire and towards the ghosts that floated in a wall of blue and red fire, blocking his escape. Here he was, running towards his death. He twirled Vampire Killer, ready to strike down a few of the creatures before they massed upon him.

Yet even as he ran, a high pitched squeaking filled the night air. The ghosts in front of him suddenly exploded, their forms obliterated by a swarm of small, furred bodies on silent black wings. The spirits were in disarray once again, wildly lurching towards the five black bats that dodged around and amongst them, dealing death with their tiny fangs and claws, blasts of fire issuing from their little mouths. Richter looked over his shoulder for Alucard, completely in awe that such strange, savage little creatures would come to his aid.

But Alucard had disappeared. Fluttering in the ring of ghosts, fireballs bursting from its vicious maw was a very large black bat. Richter's eyes widened as he caught sight of the belt and chain around the creature's chest, the silver sword dangling from it all too familiar. The smaller bats flew to the larger one, forming a ring around it as the ghosts flittered this way and that way in panic. Instants later they were lurching through the night sky, raining down fireballs upon the hapless spirits below.

Richter would have stood and watched it happen, but the path was clear now and he had to follow it. Tearing his gaze away from the bats, he coiled his whip and ran. The ghostly wails of dying spirits faded behind him. Not long after, he heard a rush of soft wings and watched as the giant bat flew up beside him, flapped its wings a few times, then curled in on itself, only to billow out a moment later as the cloak enshrouded dhampire. He managed the transformation gracefully and hit the ground running.

"Don't stop yet, Belmont." He said through gritted teeth. "Those ghosts are far more persistent than I first thought."

"They're still coming after us?!" The hunter gasped.

The dhampire nodded. "Hurry." he turned his gaze back on the path. Richter looked over at him, noticing for the first time, a little black bat nestled against his cheek, the collar of both cloak and coat keeping it protected. The creature's wing was torn and bleeding, it chirped softly in pain.

Alucard lurched to a halt suddenly, grabbing the hunter's shoulder and wrenching him back an instant later. Richter staggered, but the firm hand on his coat stopped him from falling. He glared at the other man, a reprimand upon his lips, but it quickly faded as he gazed at the dhampire's stricken face, and followed his gaze to the cliff path.

It had caved. The path had sunk to a few rocky ledges, and even these looked unstable. There would be no way across, not quickly enough to get away from the massing spirits anyway. The trees to the side led only to a sheer face of rock. Ominous clacking came from somewhere close behind. The ghosts were almost upon them.

The hunter drew his whip and uttered a prayer, ready to make a final stand. But he never got the chance.

Alucard had turned back without his noticing and was now dashing at full speed towards the cliff edge, his face set in grave determination. Richter couldn't help but stare in wonder at the speed he was moving at, but his surprise was short lived. The dhampire seized his wrist and pulled him along. He stumbled, but hurried to keep up with the inhuman pace the other man had set. They neared the cliff edge. They leapt.

The wind whistled through his hair, the ground far below yawned darkly. For one terrifying moment, he thought that they would not make it, but then there was solid rock beneath his boots and he fell to his knees with a groan. He looked back towards the path, wondering how they had cleared such a jump. Surely it was a feat no normal man could perform.

"Get up." The dhampire tugged at his coat, pointing towards the opposite ridge. There were a series of rather unstable rocks and platforms protruding from the sunken wall, the distance between them shorter than the first leap they had made. He assumed that the other man wouldn't be holding his hand and dragging him across these pillars. Getting slowly to his feet, he looked back over his shoulder again, frowning as the ghosts pulled into view, their beady red eyes searching restlessly. He looked back at the dhampire before taking a running leap and landing on the next of the rocky platforms. Alucard followed close behind, the two of them taking care where they stepped; many of the platforms were unstable, ready to crumble in an instant, and many of them did once the hunter and dhampire had safely crossed.

The ghosts flew ever closer, forcing them to make hasty movements. Twice Richter slipped on the rocks, but Alucard caught him once and steadied him the other time. They hurried towards the other side, where the path protruded in a ledge above their heads. Richter wasn't surprised to see a cloud of mist glide lazily past him only to shimmer and take the form of the dhampire once upon the other ledge. Alucard crouched down, stretching over the protruding rock and held his hand out to the hunter below. The hunter caught it and held it firmly, marveling at the ease the other seemed to have in pulling him up. His hand caught upon the rock, he strained to pull himself up alongside the dhampire.

It was then that the rock shuddered, a reverberating crack piercing the night air. The ghosts stopped wailing and halted in their tracks, watching with glee as the ledge the two men stood upon broke away from the path and fell into the black abyss below. Richter cried out, feeling a jarring blow to his arm as Alucard caught hold of his wrist and stopped him from following the chunk of rock into the ravine. The hunter looked up, finding the dhampire staring back at him with wide eyes. There was fear within them, concern and worry. He blinked back, bewildered.

Alucard had not even had time to transform; the sudden fall was a surprise to him too. He now clutched at the crumbling ledge with one hand, held tightly to Richter with the other. The ghosts whirled around them, wailing and clacking in glee, yet they made no move to attack.

"Hurry, Belmont…" He spoke through clenched teeth, the strain showing in his taunt form. "Get up onto the ledge. I… know not how much longer I can hold on." He groaned, tightening his grip on Richter's wrist, rocking back and forth so as to swing the hunter up beside him. Richter reached out, groaning as his hand met with solid rock and his front scraped against the rugged cliff face. He felt the other man let go, and reached up to grip the ledge in both hands, slowly pulling himself up. Alucard watched him scramble back upon the cliff ledge with his usual calm expression, and allowed Richter to pull him up onto the path. He sat there for a moment, breathing heavily whilst the hunter lashed out at the spirits who were now setting up a wailing chorus upon seeing that they had come to no misfortune.

But then Alucard was on his feet again, and the two men were running along the path in the moonlight once more. Even as they fled the ghosts, Richter prayed that they would not happen upon another hindrance like this again. His heart could only take so much in one night.

--

Somewhere along the trail the spirits gave up and drifted away. Richter was relieved to be walking again, though it seemed that they were heading uphill to what appeared to be a network of caves. When he had snapped at the dhampire asking what he had been thinking leading them through the spirits, the other man had icily replied that he normally took the path during the day and had never known that such creatures lived upon it in the night-hours. They had spent the rest of the walk in silence.

Climbing the rugged hills, they entered one of the smaller caves, the dhampire immediately taking the bat from his shoulder and settling himself onto a rock to fully examine its wing. Richter looked around, surprised. The cave itself was empty aside from a small circle of rocks and twigs close to the entrance and the black markings of soot on the ceiling. It was quiet and cold, and his footfalls echoed as he followed the other man in.

"I have heard many reasons as to why you are out hunting again, Belmont." The dhampire's voice startled him and he looked quickly towards the other man who was still peering at the bat's wing. "Up until now I assumed they were all lies… and up until now they _have _been all lies…" he raised his head to gaze calmly at the other man. "So I would like to know the truth. What is it that has brought you out into the world again?"

Richter frowned. "Isn't it obvious?" He shook his head, waving his hand out towards the moonlit landscape. "The monsters. I… I want to put an end to them. Walachia hasn't seen this much tragedy since…" He trailed off, his frown only darkening.

"Since Castlevania's rise, am I correct?" Alucard's gaze had fallen back onto his injured familiar. "I thought as much. That there couldn't have been anything more to your motives."

The hunter felt a thrill of anger at the sureness of his words. There was more to it than that, but what exactly was this man suggesting…? He had felt another meaning behind Alucard's words. "And what of you?" He growled. "What brings you out stalking people in the night, Alucard? What made you come out of the woods and attack me?!"

The dhampire looked calmly up at him again, his expression mild. "Calm yourself." He said softly. "There is no need for such a temper, Belmont." The barest hint of frustration came into those golden eyes. "To be perfectly honest with you, I know not what has woken me. I have been awake for months now and still have yet to find exactly what it is that has pulled me from my slumbers." The bat squeaked loudly and he ran a finger over its head, hushing it. "I can sense that there is something out there, a darkness hidden within a darkness… and it is towards this that I have been striving since my awakening. But I am not sure I am going in the right direction, for it is so carefully woven, so carefully hidden that I cannot pinpoint it. It is not a strong evil, but I fear that with time it will grow until nothing can stand in its way." He frowned. "Hence, I have been destroying monsters as well. 'Hunting' just as you have. My suspicions may be irrational; the evil I sense may just be the gathering of these fiends all over the land where they have been forbidden to walk. But if there is the threat of pure evil and Dracula's rise comes of it… I want to be there to stop it."

"And why did you attack me?" The hunter asked, scowling. It worried him that Alucard was about as clueless as he was to the rise of these monsters, that the dhampire suspected that Dracula might be behind all the commotion. But he had to suppress a smile as the dhampire lowered his gaze, the slight flush upon those marble cheeks the only indication of his embarrassment.

"I did not think it was you." He said softly. "I have wandered the misty woods for so long, Belmont. The succubae pay no attention to wolves; they are only after the hearts and memories of humans. When I walked through the forest in this form, I happened upon you time and time again. Always in danger, always surrounded by beasts. I feared for you. I ran to your aid, slew whatever stood between you and safety only to…" he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. Richter was surprised to see the strain in the other man's face as he spoke. "… only to find that it was not you. That it was a demon, working with the surrounding beasts, wearing me down in hopes of finishing me off." He gazed up at the hunter again, as though for reassurance. "When I took the form of the wolf, I would come across them, searching for me. They always knew I was close, they could sense my heart, but in the form that I had assumed, they did not recognize me. They were looking for a man, not a beast. It is… how I have been destroying them. I never intended to hurt you." He raised his hand to the wound on his cheek. "I assumed that this time would be no different from the others."

He turned back to the bat then, fussing over its wing, dabbing at it with the hem of his cloak. Richter watched as he muttered soothingly to the animal, as he scratched beneath its chin and stroked its head. There was worry in his eyes, sorrow that his little creature had come to such harm. The hunter walked over to him, offering the satchel on his arm.

"Perhaps there is something here that can help." He said quietly. Golden eyes met his own with silent thanks, a slight nod of the other man's head the only acknowledgement he was given before Alucard took the bag from him and sifted through its contents. He examined every herb and phial carefully before finally choosing one and trickling a few drops onto the bat's wounds.

"Such strange concoctions…" he murmured, re-corking the phial and slipping it back into the satchel, before going through the collection of threads and needles the hedgewitch had packed. Selecting one, he threaded it carefully and muttered something quietly to the bat. "Who gave these to you?" he asked, driving the needle through the creature's wing, hushing it as it squealed. "Such an odd sense of herb lore… I thought only the gardeners at Castlevania had any idea how to extract the sap and flesh of the plant beasts."

Richter blinked. "I… they were given to me by a healer. She lived in the woods close by the town back in the direction that I came from…" He looked out of the cave mouth. Where was he now, anyway? Certainly nowhere near the town he had first set out towards. And what had become of the hedgewitch? He could only wonder and hope for her safety. "Were it not for her, I would probably be dead by now."

He jumped a little as the dhampire snapped the thread and lifted the bat to his eye level to check on its wing again. Richter wondered how he could see in such darkness, the only light filtered in from the cave mouth. Looking towards the opening again, he could see it was a brilliant, clear night, but hardly practical for assessing the creature's wounds. But Alucard seemed to find his work satisfactory and lifted the bat to the cave wall, where it proceeded to claw its way up to the ceiling and dangle in the shadows, squeaking pitifully. Only then did he turn to Richter and give the hunter his full attention.

"So your travels have been treacherous too… it wasn't my imagination that the beasts seem smarter and more agile." He crossed his arms and leaned back against the cave wall. "Have you noticed, Belmont? Those that once hunted in packs now roam on their own. Those that roamed on their own have become more cunning, their toxins more deadly. More people are dying at their hands than ever before."

Richter nodded, shivering at the memory of the beasts he had slain along his journey. The solitary Arachne, the crazed, maddened Manticore in the forest, the Alura-Une sprouted from a droplet of bloodlike fluid… "I do not think that they are natural beasts…" he muttered, shaking his head.

"Unnatural monsters? What do you mean, Belmont?" The dhampire regarded him curiously.

"They…" the hunter shook his head. "I encountered a succubus while I was in the healer's company. She created an Une out of nothing… just a flower and some sort of liquid. But it was a violent beast… there was so much anger and hatred rolling off of it, I know not if I would have been able to defeat it on my own. The healer shot a flaming crossbolt into it before it tired me out completely. I haven't seen any other creatures created this way… but the same sense of mindless fury was in many of the monsters that I encountered." The Manticore in particular was brought to mind.

Alucard looked at him thoughtfully. "I see…" he muttered. "How curious." Getting to his feet he strode over to the circle of rocks by the cave mouth and crouched before it, holding his hands over the small pile of twigs in its centre. Richter was about to ask what he was doing, when a warm, orange glow lit the cave from within and a fire was crackling brightly as the dhampire drew away. He beckoned the hunter over and motioned for him to sit, and the two stared at each other across the flames.

"This is indeed worrying news…" the dhampire said softly. "Whatever this liquid is, you say it was in a succubus' hands?" He frowned darkly when the hunter nodded. "I see. I had first assumed that Castlevania's ruins had freed the few remaining beasts from their rightful places… that they had just bred and spawned more across the land and were left unchecked and unslain. But there are too many for that. If it is just a succubus going around spreading monsters, she is probably doing it for her own amusement. Eventually her source of liquid will run dry, and then the monsters should stop coming."

Richter shook his head. "I fear there is more to it than that…" He closed his eyes and sighed. "There may be another working with her. A man who wants to bring judgment to mankind, to see the world fall. I fear he is the reason I have come so far from home."

Alucard remained grave and silent as Richter told him everything he knew about Marcel Blackmoore; how the man had approached him on the traveler's road, told him that he would pass judgment, that he would see Richter fall. Blackmoore was behind the Arachne, he was behind the Manticore that had nearly killed the hunter back in the woods. Blackmoore somehow knew the hedgewitch, had probably given her those many bloody cuts before she had woken him in the forest and sent him away with Penna. Blackmoore had flown, Blackmoore had stalked his dreams and sent him the promise of nightmare. Blackmoore was probably the one who had led the pack of werewolves to his beloved, the 'woman' that the mercenary had glimpsed before he fled to the village to tell Maria of the tragedy that had befallen her sister.

The last made him hang his head in sorrow. He could not speak without his voice cracking, nor his eyes filling with tears at the painful memory. Shaking his head, he looked away. "I'm sorry." He muttered hoarsely. "That's all I know."

He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Alucard had risen and crossed over to him, his face filled with sorrow and concern. "They took Annette?" he whispered. Richter could only nod. He couldn't bring himself to reply. "I'm so sorry, Belmont."

The hunter shook his head. "Spare me your pity, Alucard. I can only blame myself for what happened to her… I can only right things by destroying the beasts that killed her."

He was aware of the dhampire's silence, the thoughtful frown upon his lips. He stretched his hands out to the fire, relishing the warmth after so long in the cold, and did not meet the other man's gaze.

"Perhaps I may be of service to you then, Belmont." Alucard startled him by speaking so suddenly, but still, he didn't turn and kept his eyes upon the flickering firelight. "There are a pack of werewolves to the north of here. I have only heard news of them recently from the bats in the night air… but perhaps they are the ones that you seek."

Richter whirled to face him so suddenly that the dhampire leaned back a little. His eyes were wide and pleading, the fierce spark of determination shining in them. A spark that had not been there until now. "Take me to them." He whispered. "Please, Alucard."

The dhampire nodded slowly. "Very well. As you have said, we are two men fighting for the same cause… perhaps we would benefit from each other's company on the journey. I will guard your back, Belmont." Those golden eyes were serene and thoughtful. "As long as you will guard mine. Perhaps we can stop this evil together, if only so I can return to sleep."

Richter nodded. "Yes." He said softly. "Yes, of course."

Alucard dipped his head in acknowledgement. "So be it." He rose to his feet and stretched, looking towards his familiar in the shadows once again. "Rest now. Nothing will harm you as long as you stay within the cave." He strode calmly toward the cave mouth.

"Wait!" The hunter got to his knees. "Where are you going?"

"Not far." Came the soft reply. "I need to time to think about everything that has passed tonight." In the firelight glow, Richter could see that the other man's face was troubled. "We leave in the morning, Belmont. Sleep while you still can."

--

A chill breeze blew through the still night air, stirring the leaves on the evergreen trees in the valley far below. Alucard was perched on a rocky ledge, his golden eyes aglow in the moonlight, his mind troubled. The news that the hunter had brought him had not boded well, but that had not been his prime concern.

What had happened to the hunter? He would never have thought that the next time he encountered Richter Belmont the other man would have looked the way he did when they had first met at Castlevania. He wore his character ferocity like a paper mask; it was so easy to see the feelings beneath. So much anguish, so much sorrow, so much fear. Alucard could understand some of it. The man had lost almost everything he held dear, had been driven from his home and thrust out into the land to destroy what only he could destroy. Faiths rested upon his shoulders, but so did many doubts. And yet it was not the weight of these doubts and superstitions that left him looking like a shell… there was something else, something that filled him with a terrible sadness. Something had happened to Richter, something he had not told the dhampire. Whatever it was, it had left him hollow and broken.

All he could think was that it was terrible to see a Belmont brought so low.

The air was growing colder and winter would be upon them soon. He did not feel the chill bite of the wind, but he knew for sure that his companion would. Rising to his feet, he shook his head and headed quietly down the rocky trail and back towards the cave. Taking a few logs of wood from where they lay scattered around the entrance, he slipped inside and set them upon the dying fire, tilting his head slightly as he surveyed the scene before him.

Richter had bundled his coat up under his head and was using it as a pillow. His clothing showed the telltale signs of wear and tear, what was once white had faded to muddy cream from his travels. Even with the warmth of the fire he was shivering; his eyelids twitching, fingers grasping tightly at the fabric beneath his cheek. It was hard not to pity him, looking at him like this. In the realm of dreams, his true feelings showed upon his face, fear and sorrow, hopelessness, desolation. He looked like a man with no hope of salvation, brought to his lowest.

Placing the logs on the crackling fire, Alucard strode over to him and crouched beside his sleeping form, stroking his cheek with a gentle hand. Richter stirred slightly at his touch, but did not wake, tears coming to the corners of his eyes.

"Oh Belmont…" the dhampire's voice was barely more than a whisper. "What has become of you?"

With the utmost tenderness, he wiped those silent tears away, quietly unclasped his cloak and spread it over the sleeping man's form. Rising to his feet again, he strode out of the cave and stood outside, his eyes raised to the full moon above.

Golden eyes were perplexed as he wondered why seeing Richter in such a state filled his heart with so much sorrow.

* * *

Reviews = love.  
Did I get his personality right? I'm sort of all paranoid about it now Dx;


	13. Hunting

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania. As much as I wish I did, it is not to be. Also, this fic is a **yaoi** fic. Meaning there is going to be **boy x boy** action in a handful of chapters or so. With **no hetero** whatsoever.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Before I go any further, I'd just like to clear up a little confusion that chapter 12 seems to have spawned.  
Firstly, **_Moonlight Breaking_ is far from over**. Secondly, the author's notes for chapter 6 state that **Maria is not be returning for the rest of this fanfic. Because I hate her** and giving her a role in the beginning was a task and three quarters for me. Thirdly, **I have no intention of reviving Annette**. Doing so will only make someone look bad D: As in sue-bad. And I'm paranoid enough about that happening already.  
This is a **slash** fic, stated **clearly** in every chapter, and while re-introducing the ladies would make for a nice reunion, it would just make the goal of uniting Alucard and Richter unnecessarily difficult. And Richter's had enough difficulty thus far already D:  
Thank you for your understanding~

In chapter notes. The first few paragraphs are a little bit all over the place in my opinion Dx; I wasn't sure what I wanted to accomplish in this chapter, but hugs and love to beth and siberian for steering me in the right direction ;3;  
I think somehow along the way I accidentally turned Andras into a Pazuzu Dx; I know he can't poison things, but looking at him, it'd be so easy to carry plague on those ragged wings. Forgive me for altering him a little. Blame Blackmoore. He altered the demon to suit his own purposes D:  
Alucard pulled a Dark Metamorphosis. As to whether he did it right or not, I'm not too sure Dx And I'm unsure as to how I portrayed him again in this chapter...

Nonetheless, read on and enjoy~!

* * *

_Hunting_

Richter awoke to face the dawn. He stirred sleepily beneath the thick mantle of fabric that had been settled upon him during the night, pulling it more snugly around his shoulders before rolling onto his side and closing his eyes once again. It was only after another few moments that he shifted again, wondering where such a blanket had come from since he did not recall falling asleep beneath one. He felt comfortably warm, which was another strange thing. Surely the fire had gone out during the night. And where was Alucard…?

He sat up hurriedly, wondering if everything that had passed the previous evening had just been a dream, only to have the dhampire's cloak slip from his body. The fire was, indeed, still alive and crackling merrily in the chill morning air, a chill that made itself known now that he wasn't wrapped in the warmth of Alucard's cloak. He looked up; finding the dhampire in question perched comfortably on a flat rock before the flickering orange light, the little black bat in his cupped hands. The creature's wing was stretched out before him; he was examining his handiwork from the previous night.

"Good morning, Belmont." His voice was low and soft, but still somehow resonated in the small cave. Richter was a little offended that he did not even have the grace to look up from what he was doing. "I was just about to wake you. We need to go."

The hunter shivered, retrieving his coat from where he had been sleeping on it and hurriedly put it on to escape the morning's cold. "We must leave already?" He asked, confused.

"Those werewolves are on the move too." Alucard replied. "Did you believe that they would just wait for us to reach them? No Belmont. They sense a change in the air too. The bestial side of their minds wants to move somewhere safer, somewhere secluded to spend their winter. They stop and lair at a location for a few days to rest and restore their strength, and then they move on again. And a werewolf is far swifter than you. On my own I could probably catch them. But we are not doing this for me." The hunter was infuriated to see a faint sparkle of satisfaction in those golden eyes as his own mouth immediately jerked into a frown. Still, the man did not look at him and it did nothing but fuel his anger.

"Just what are you saying, Alucard?" He growled. "Did you not tell me yourself last night that it was best if you and I traveled together?"

The dhampire's expression never changed. Golden eyes rose to look at him, calculating and testing. "You need to control your temper." He said simply. Without another word, he stood, placing the bat on his shoulder, where it clung, squeeking cheerfully. With sure steps, he was in front of the hunter a moment later, stooping to retrieve his cloak. Richter found himself glaring at the graceful back, watching the silvery hair tumbling down over those strong shoulders. But in a moment, the other man had straightened, those solemn gold orbs meeting his own once again. "Truly I meant what I said last night. But you know that the death of these beasts will not bring her back to you."

He flinched at those words. "I know that." He spat, all but snarling at the dhampire. Upon seeing that the other was not moved by his aggression, he felt a fool and lowered his gaze. "I know that." He repeated softly. "But it offers me small consolation. At least if I cannot see her alive, I would at least wish to see these beasts dead, so that they may not destroy the hearts and souls of another couple the same way that they have destroyed mine. I do not seek revenge purely to make them feel my wrath. At one point they were human too. It will end their reign of terror… and put them out of their misery."

Alucard nodded solemnly. "Come." He said softly. Placing a hand on the hunter's shoulder he steered him towards the fire, where the other man was surprised to find a thin, charred rabbit lying on a flat rock, along with an assortment of wild berries. He looked back at the dhampire and wondered just how long ago he had woken. Alucard had been awake before he had fallen asleep. Had he remained so throughout the night? Had he slept at all? The hunter dropped to his knees before the crackling flames and poked at the rabbit, drawing a hunting knife from his belt to separate the meat into portions.

"Worry not about me, Belmont. I've eaten already." He looked up as the other man strode past him toward the cave mouth, the bat cupped in one hand. "You need to get your strength back. I can tell you haven't had a decent meal in a while." Richer glowered at the back of his cloak. Damn that knowing gaze of his.

As he sat before the comforting warmth, tearing pieces off the food that Alucard had prepared for him, he watched the dhampire lift his hand and croon softly to his familiar, who squeaked in reply and experimentally flapped its wings. The look on the other man's face was so concerned from what he could see beyond the high collar and fine ringlets of silvery hair. He watched, near mesmerized, as the bat lifted away from the black leather that it sat upon, as Alucard dropped his hand to his side, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and relief in his gaze, so pleased to see that his little companion was all right.

Richter couldn't help but stare. It was the first expression of warmth that he had ever seen upon the dhampire's visage.

--

The sun had long since risen to greet the new day when the two found themselves thrust into darkness once again. They were traveling through the untouched valley that Richter had looked upon the previous night, the trees so close together that the sunlight was barely visible through their evergreen needles. The hunter could no longer remember how long they had been walking or even what hour it was. The dhampire had kindly kept his pace slow so that the hunter was not left far behind; he remained ahead by a few steps, cloak swirling about his body, the breeze and the movement of his passage causing those silvery-blonde locks to twist and shift.

And of course, there was no conversation.

Richter could not help but wonder how the other man could be out in such light; while they were still upon the cliffs and the caves, he had strode forward resolutely, his face set in his usual stony expression, unscathed by the morning's brilliance. It had made the hunter question his belief that this man was truly a creature of the night… a vampire, but not vampire enough to be obliterated by the sun's rays. But here they were now, beneath a cover of trees, slender beams of sunlight penetrating the needles to shine upon the loam beneath, dappling the undergrowth in a strange mixture of light and shadow. He kept his eyes on the back of Alucard's head, thinking the same of this man. A being composed of neither pure light nor pure shadow, but a mixture of the two.

He hated how the silence stretched between them.

The black bat was still there, clinging to the dhampire's dark cloak, bright red thread vivid where Alucard had sewn its injuries shut. It was still recovering, but at least it could fly. Alucard had not wanted it to overexert itself after such a close call. The genuine worry for the creature that he had seen in the dhampire's eyes had been… strange. He was not accustomed to seeing Alucard display any emotion other than his own ferocity, his thoughtful and contemplative calm. It was surprising, an almost frightening thing. To have seen that brief smile that very morning, the dhampire had seemed… human. Even in the past, Alucard had taken his gratitude with silence, the noble dip of his head the only acknowledgement that all would be well once again…

Something rustled in the bushes to their left, causing his head to jerk up abruptly, musings forgotten. The dhampire's hand had flown to his sword in the same instant, eyes narrowing as a low rumble accompanied it. The Alucard sword slid from its sheath with the barest whisper of silver as Richter uncoiled Vampire Killer from his belt, as the bushes before them erupted into flames and an enormous beast of a wolf stalked out from the shadows, smoke curling from its mouth. Richter's frown deepened as the beast approached them, hackles raised, teeth bared in a savage growl. This was no ordinary wolf, nor was it a mutant Warg; though to the inexperienced it might have appeared so at first glance. With coppery red fur and blazing green eyes, the lethal talons – they could not be called claws – on the beast's paws were a charming crimson color. Gums as dark as old blood were wreathed in thin wisps of smoke, teeth razor sharp and pearly white glistened in the beast's mouth. It was a Firewarg, aptly named for its ability to breathe fire, and was known to be far more dangerous than any of the lesser wolves. The reason for this was simply due to the fact that where there was one Firewarg, there were usually a dozen more; a whole pack of vicious, terrible creatures that were more than ready to defend their territory. More of the undergrowth around them went up in flames as five more of the beasts appeared from all sides, encircling them. They were trapped.

But the worst of it was still to come, for a seventh creature padded out into the center of the ring and looking upon it, the hunter felt his throat constrict.

This Warg was armored; bands of wrought iron covering its paws, a sturdy breastplate over its wide chest, a helm covering its head complete with gaps left for its ears. Though it snarled low in its throat, it was not the sight of the wolf itself that had Richter so tense, but rather the monster riding upon its back.

It was a sickly thing, a raven that looked as though someone had held its wings and feet and pulled and pulled until it vaguely resembled the shape of a man. Ragged feathers covered its thin, wrinkled skin; its eyes were mere droplets of red surrounded by creases of flesh. A thin, stringy beak protruded from the front of its head, a pale, wormlike tongue writhing within. It too was armored; clad in the same wrought iron as its mount, inscribed with the same patterns. In its claw of a hand, iron wristbands decorating its forearms, was clasped a great broadsword, the hilt of iron make as well, but the blade itself composed of pure flames. Its free hand twitched, it raised one scraggly arm and pointed at Richter, a sound somewhere between a caw and a croak causing it to snap its beak. The hunter could only stare at the grasping talon, grey like a cold corpse, covered in raised warts and scales.

"_Belmont…" _The creature's voice was as ragged as its pelt. The beak snapped, the tongue twisted, every word escaping with an inhuman hiss, the kind that suggested that this monster had not originally been formed with the ability to speak. "_We have been searching for you. By order of our master, I demand you leave. Return to your nest and tend your fledglings. Leave us to the task we have been set. Go peacefully, lest I have to lay your bones to rest here in the wilds."_

Alucard felt the hunter tense beside him and looked over, the barest hint of concern glimmering in his eyes as Richter regarded the creature with surprise and… could it be? A faint trace of fear? The hunter's mouth opened in retaliation, but words would not come; there was too much shock. Without hesitation, the dhampire strode forward, thrusting one arm out in front of him. "He takes orders from no beast." His voice was cold, his face set in grave seriousness. "Who are you to demand such a thing? Speak, demon. Who is your master?"

The bird demon, Andras, looked at him, those pinprick eyes widening in surprise. Evidently it had not expected to find another being with its quarry, but it recovered quickly. It was not as dim-witted as many of the other beasts that had fallen to the holy whip along the way. The beak clacked again, the creature letting out a high, trilling whine, as though uncertain. _"I serve he who brings judgment to mankind. I serve the one who would see you dead."_ The droplet eyes narrowed, beak clacking threateningly. _"Return to your crypt with you tail twixt your legs, half breed bastard. This is not business for your ears. My master would be pleased if you remained out of the picture." _The flaming sword raised, the hunter flinching a little as he felt the heat emanate from that simple arc. _"If you will not go I will scatter your ashes upon the wind!" _Its head swiveled to stare at Richter. _"And you! Your bones shall go with him!"_

The hunter felt anger bubbling to the surface again. This creature may have been a step up from the feral instincts of Manticore and Alura-Une, but it was still a monster at heart. There was a fury in those dead eyes that rivaled that of the creatures he had slain along his way. He would fight this ungodly fury with his own righteous anger. Such was his promise, his right. "Monster." He growled. Then louder. "Monster! I will have nothing to do with you; I will take no order from your unholy mouth." His voice turned cold and he brandished the whip threateningly. "Go to your master and tell him that Richter Belmont will not be swayed. No matter what he says, I will carry out my duty and neither you nor he can change that!"

The creature shrieked, stretching its ragged wings wide. From their vantage point on the ground, it only made the Andras seem more fierce and threatening. But Richter took up a fighting stance and saw Alucard come up beside him from the corner of his eye. They would not be swayed.

"_I will make you eat your words, Belmont!" _The creature was wild eyed; the wolves around them all baying ferociously, smoke all but pouring from their dark maws. _"Prepare yourself!"_ The creature shrieked loudly, wings flapping as its Firewarg mount charged forward with a menacing snarl. All around them the other Wargs had opened their mouths, flashes of crimson smoldering between sharp fangs. But suddenly one beast let out a howl of agony, the fire in its maw dying as a silver sword pierced its throat. The dhampire wasted no time to savor his small victory, his cloak was already swirling around his form, and as the wolves released their barrage of fire, a black bat sailed over the resulting explosion of flames.

Richter only heard the sounds vaguely in the background; his gaze was riveted on the bird demon and its mount. Now that the circle of wolves had broken, he found more room to move around and maneuver and was using it to hurriedly back away from the swinging flame blade. The Andras was a cunning beast, it knew the terrain better than he, and it also had a rather unfair height advantage on him. Standing where he was on the ground, Richter could only hack at the creature's legs, and the leathery scales and warts upon its crow's feet looked almost as impenetrable as its armor. There was only one thing he could do; unseat the monster from its mount. If the Warg fell, he would have a better chance of fighting the Andras itself.

The clacking beak and glowing eyes, however, said that the bird demon was thinking the same thing. Every time Richter aimed a blow at the armored wolf, the holy whip merely clashed off the beast's armor, or else the creature itself thrust its sword in front of its mount. Insubstantial fire became solid and as strong as any metal. The chain of his whip was trapped, pulled taunt against the demon's sword. They stood, circling each other slowly, working out their next plan of attack. Neither man nor monster could attack with their weapons so entangled. But Richter had not counted on the Warg. With a fierce roar, the beast unleashed a ball of fire from its mouth, the flames catching the hunter full in the chest. They struck with enough force to send him flying into the sturdy trunk of one of the trees. He groaned softly, momentarily dazed as pine needles showered down around him, but felt the holy whip in his hand and took heart once again. The faint smell of burnt cloth and hair tickled his nose, but it was soon forgotten as he leapt to the side to avoid the flaming sword as it pierced the tree where he had been standing a moment ago.

The leap was misjudged and sent him crashing into Alucard. The two of them tumbled into the trunk of another tree, the dhampire grunting softly in pain as his shoulder made a loud crunching sound, taking most of the impact from their fall. His face was soot streaked and the edge of his cloak was charred, his gloveclad hand clutching tightly at his newest injury. As the two hurried to disentangle themselves from each other, then further disentangle themselves from the holy whip's chain, the circle of wolves closed in, the Andras laughing mockingly. There were only three Wargs, not counting the one that the bird demon rode upon, but judging by the way that the dhampire held himself, he had suffered many unseen wounds for reducing their numbers so.

"_You cannot even land one attack on me, hunter!"_ The creature's laugh was an ugly sound, the gurgling burble of some pestilence claiming a life. _"Truly you humans are pitiful… I know not why my master holds you as such a threat…" _It laughed again; worm tongue twisting and flailing like it had a mind of its own. _"Surrender and leave quietly! If you give up now, I promise I'll grant you a quick death. You won't even fell it as I rip your entrails out and devour your soul…"_

"Enough!" The dhampire spoke quite calmly despite his stooped stance. Without warning, a barrage of flames burst from his hand, catching the bird demon full in the face. For one terrible moment Richter feared that the fire would be absorbed, but then the Warg was rearing and baying its surprise, the Andras clutching at its face, its flame sword momentarily put out. The hunter took the opportunity and drew his hunting knife, dodging the Warg's flailing paws and stabbing the blade deep into the unprotected belly. He wrenched it forward, gagging a little as the smell of punctured innards reached his nose, as a fierce heat emanated from the bloody, vicious wound. It was almost too hot to pull his knife away and retreat as the Warg retched and flailed, its blood spilling across the needle strewn ground, bile and intestines following soon after. It howled in fear and pain, its paws growing weak beneath it, and despite the Andras' screams for it to stand and go forth, it collapsed, falling on its side, trapping the bird demon beneath it with a shriek of pain. Fire shot forth from the gaping maw, but the flames faltered, sputtering and floundering, and soon it was only the wolf's pained breaths that made any sound at all.

Somewhere behind him Alucard had shouted and Richter turned to see the dhampire lunging at the remaining Wargs with vehemence. The hunter was startled to see the violence in his actions; the silver sword moved in a swift blur, lopping off limbs and heads, cutting just so that the blood flowed before leaping away. His golden eyes shone brighter than before, the fangs had all but lengthened to rest visibly on his lower lip. He was surrounded by an aura, a fierce crimson one that sent a thrill of fear through the hunter's heart. The ground around him was stained red as he lunged at the wolves that encircled him; his own clothes were dark with their blood. But his movements were stronger, fiercer. As though all his injuries had healed…

Richter's thoughts were cut off as something screamed and hurled itself at his side. The bird demon had finally gotten free of its dead mount and its wrath knew no bounds. The two tumbled together, a mess of fury and feathers, before Richter kicked the snarling, snapping creature off him and got to his feet, Vampire Killer striking a blow on its unprotected claw of a hand. The talons crumpled instantly, the monster dropping its sword to shriek and clutch at its mangled limb. He left it no opportunity to recover; raining blows down upon its unprotected arms, its stomach, its bare head. The creature shrieked, dropping to the ground and covering itself with its tattered wings. Richter could see that beneath the feathers, one of the monster's eyes had disappeared in a spray of blood; there were various wounds upon its lower body, the feathers burnt away to nothing by the whip's power. It crawled along the ground, groping for its blade, but it did not take long until a well aimed whip stroke severed the second claw from the feathered arm. The monster shrieked again, mangled hand closing with difficulty around the hilt of its own sword, a gurgling chuckle escaping it as the flame blade sprang to life once again.

The lunged for each other then, whip clashing off sword, leaping about the forest path. It was not long before Richter was just as wounded as the Andras was; he did not have the protection of armor to guard him against the heavy strikes and fierce heat of the monster's blade. A dull howl sounded from somewhere in the background, but he had no time to look up to see what had happened; his attention was focused wholly on the creature in front of him. The Andras gave him no chance to look away; its strikes were growing fiercer, more desperate. It was tiring. It was wounded. But the instinct within would not allow it to give up.

The creature leapt, Richter lashed out with Vampire Killer. He felt the whip connect with something, but did not have the opportunity to see what, for ragged black wings were battering his body, dark blood spraying across his face as the stump of the demon's arm struck him. He drew his own arm back, staggering as the beast clutched at his throat with its ruined talon, shrieking its rage. Vampire Killer met the creature's skull once, twice, three times, the monster's cries of fury growing fainter and distorted. There was blood in his eyes, he could barely see his target, just felt the tips of those talons piercing his skin, deeper and deeper. It hurt. He was crying out. Feathers were everywhere. Vampire Killer's chain was entangled, something sharp and hard slashed at his cheek.

"_If I cannot destroy you, I shall take you down to hell with me, Belmont!!!"_

He felt as though he were burning. Blackness was engulfing him; the iron hilt of the monster's sword was pressed against the side of his neck. He was staggering backwards, feeling sharp talons digging into his leg, his hip. The creature's weight was too great, he was falling. There were feathers brushing against his nose, his mouth. He coughed. Every breath felt painful, like he was breathing in the dust of the dead, a foul pestilence carried on this creature's wings. There was a sharp pain in his neck, but it lasted only a second, the burning sensation gone, the sword hilt falling away. He struggled to breathe, kicking and thrashing against the monster's weight, but those talons were so deep in his skin. He couldn't remove them, try as he might.

"_Die, Belmont…"_

He struggled all the harder, holding his breath so he could not feel the dizzying effects of the creature's poison. He struck blindly with Vampire Killer, hitting first a wing, an arm, then striking the monster across its repulsive face with enough force to break its neck. The satisfying snap was lost as Andras let out a guttural moan, slumping against him. Its dead weight was sudden and heavy, and this time Richter _did_ fall beneath it. He flailed, feeling flesh melting from the creature's body to drip upon his skin, leaving black marks wherever it touched. He couldn't breathe. He felt ill. He couldn't get the monstrosity off him. He felt a thrill of fear shoot through him. He couldn't die like this, lost in the black embrace of a plague demon. He could not!

Feathers filled his mouth, choking him. Suffocating him. He was dying. He must be dying. He struggled all the more, drawing in what little breath he could, but there were spots swimming before his eyes and feathers sliding down his throat. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move…

And suddenly the corpse was being torn from his body, thrown aside to fall in a crumpled heap of feathers at the foot of a tree. He choked, drawing in deep gulps of the fresh, cold air as he felt a hand slide beneath his head and lift him gently into a sitting position.

"Belmont!" He turned his head weakly to meet with the worried eyes of the dhampire. Worry that soon turned to relief… a relief that was, for once, not hurriedly masked by that stoic calm. "Breathe deep now… I don't think its pestilence would have had much time to act."

He felt himself being tugged gently through the loam to rest his back against a tree. Where were the Wargs? What had happened to the fountain of blood that the dhampire had all but been bathing in? Even in his daze, he could see that there was not a drop of red staining the dhampire's clothes. Stark contrast to what he had seen before…

A phial was being held to his lips, he was dimly aware of Alucard telling him to swallow. He did so with difficulty, his breath still heavy and painful. His whole body hurt. It felt as though a fire had scorched his lungs as well as his flesh. The dhampire was sitting beside him, tending to his wounds. There were talons imbedded in his flesh, like grotesque thorns from some grotesque rosebush. The creature's beak had sliced him in more than one place. And he didn't even want to _think_ about his burns…

"Thank you, Alucard." He muttered softly, closing his eyes as his breathing returned to normal and his head stopped spinning. "Once again it seems as though I owe you my life."

The other man was silent, carefully applying a soothing ointment to the burns on the hunter's neck. "I was almost too late." He admitted softly. Richter had to suppress a shiver hearing that remorseful voice so close to his ear, sweet and silver, heavy with normally invisible emotion. "If I had not heard you calling my name, I might not have come in time."

Richter closed his eyes. He did not recall screaming at all. Did not remember anything except the nauseating feeling of the creature's feathers, his own panicked heartbeat, his thoughts and fears of death. But if he had called out in terror and panic… why had it been for the dhampire?

Alucard continued to tend his wounds in silence.

--

Long after the two had gone, long after the sun had set, the carnage of their passing was still left behind. Seven Firewargs lay dead, strewn about the forest trail. The Andras was nothing more than a pile of feathers and bone cast beneath the skeleton of a tree. Armor had rusted away to nothing; flesh had melted into black pestilence.

The wind blew through the trees, sending a fresh shower of pine needles to the forest floor below. The scant black feathers that had hidden the bird demon's sickly flesh were picked up and swirled about… and lifted amongst them was a tiny black imp, pitchfork shining brightly against the muted brown and green of the wood. It felt the wind's caress, felt its body airborne and slowly uncurled from its sleeping position, flapping its tiny wings experimentally. The little imp took in the sight below it, perching itself on a branch to absorb what had happened here. Head tilted, little snout twitching, it waited for the next breeze before leaping into the air and allowing itself to be swept out of the forest.

The master would be very interested to hear this piece of news.

--

He still had no idea of the time. But the trees overhead cast the forest beneath in darkness, and not even the sun was filtering through the gaps anymore. Perhaps it was as dark as Alucard had claimed it was before. The two men sat in a small, secluded clearing, warming themselves before a bright fire. It lit the surrounding trees with a cheerful orange glow, making Richter feel a little more heartened at their situation. His body hurt all over, his skin was hot to touch, but he could feel the hedgewitch's potions working, his wounds mending even now. By this time tomorrow he would have healed completely, with not even a scar to show his battle with the Andras.

He had eaten a scant meal consisting of the remainder of the hedgewitch's provisions; shocked when the dhampire declined his invitation to share what little was left.

"I have no need to eat right now." The other man had told him softly. "I can go much longer than you without food, Belmont. Worry not about me" He had returned to his usual silent self, which pained the hunter more than infuriated him.

He was lost in a jumble of confused thoughts when he lay down that night, unable to understand why the other man's cool, aloof demeanor suddenly brought sadness rather than the normal thrill of anger at his arrogance. The way that Alucard had looked at him that afternoon, the worry in those eyes, expressed so clearly on his face… he could not forget. It had been so long… so long since he had found himself alone. Had he truly forgotten what it was like to have another care for him, worry over his safety, his life? It was a wretched thought, one he soon pushed away as he bundled his coat beneath his head once again. His limbs felt heavy, his head ached. All he wanted to do was rest and thankfully Alucard offered to keep vigil, in case any more Wargs crept up on them in the night. The dhampire was sitting on a fallen log across from him, his arms folded across his chest, eyes closed in thoughtful silence. Perched beside him, eagerly consuming the handful of berries left for it was his little familiar. Its squeaks and chitters as it made its way through its small feast were a small comfort in the dark, unfriendly forest.

The last thing he remembered as heavy lids closed over aching eyes, was the soft flutter of material being settled around his shoulders and a cool hand gently brushing sweat dampened hair from his forehead.

--

_Terrible memories._

_Pestilence. Black powder upon the winds. Black rain falling down upon him and searing his flesh. Feathers, dusty and dry, in his mouth, slipping down his throat. Choking him. Swirling about him. The world was black, black, black. He could see nothing though he cried out. There was a scream, a woman's voice. Cold, cruel laughter. He ran towards the sound, stumbling over something in the dark. Thunder crackled overhead, lighting up a carriage destroyed by wolves. Lying across the slashed, ruined seat, her eyes wide and dead was his beloved Annette, her throat torn open, her blood pouring in a red river before him. He ran to her, crying out, his heart constricting in pain and horror at the sight, but the moment he stepped into the dark torrent of blood, it swept him up, away. Even as he looked back, screaming her name, he saw crows landing upon her corpse, tearing the flesh from her body, gouging out her eyes. He screamed and screamed, flailing against the current, gasping and choking as the cloying metallic smell filled his nose, as the taste filled his mouth, but it was pulling him under, filling his vision with pure crimson. He was choking, gagging on the substance, screaming for Annette, his tears lost in the bright blood…_

"Belmont!!!"

His eyes snapped open as a ragged yell tore itself from his throat, a cry like that of a wounded animal, filled with fear and terror and anguish. His wide eyes found Alucard's, filled with worry, with concern.

"Belmont?" He breathed. His fingers were digging into the hunter's shoulders, holding him in an upright position. His cloak was tangled about the hunter's boots. "You were screaming and thrashing in your sleep… What…?"

Richter choked, a strangled sob escaping him before he could stop it. "A-Annette…!" he gasped. "She was… blood everywhere… I… I couldn't… oh God…" He gagged, the scent of blood still lingering in his nose, in his mouth. "Annette!" he wailed, tears filling his eyes, wretched sobs wracking his chest. Tears trickled down his cheeks; he was repulsed, horrified by the vision he had seen, even with her death so long ago now.

He shivered, feeling nauseous, his head falling into his hands to hide his tears. The grip on his shoulders loosened and he slumped forward feeling weak and ill, tears flowing freely as he cried his horror. He was too distressed to feel surprise as his cheek met with warmth, as strong arms slid gently around him, holding him close in a warm embrace. He wept helplessly into the dhampire's shoulder, clutching at the other man's coat as Alucard gently stroked his hair, hushing him softly.

"There, there." The dhampire's voice was unusually gentle. "It was just a fever dream. Hush now." He held the other man tightly, grateful that Richter could not see the pain on his own features. It brought his heart no end of sorrow to see the hunter in such a terrible, broken state. Truly, what had become of the man? He was ill, his skin hot to touch and deathly pale from the poison he had breathed upon the Andras' black wings. Yet the dream seemed to have been more vivid than Alucard could imagine, to have the hunter near wounding himself in his sleep. There was more to it than Annette's death…

His fingers carded gently through the dark locks as he closed his eyes. "Hush, Richter." He whispered softly, as the hunter's sobs began to abate. "You're safe now."

--

"_My messenger…?_ _He _killed_ my messenger?!_"

The succubus drifted lazily up to the chandelier, settling herself amongst the candles as the incubus below let out a shriek of pure fury. She dipped her hand down just once to snatch the little black imp out of harm's way as Blackmoore leapt to his feet, chair clattering behind him, and sent the dishes upon the dining room table flying with a sweep of his arm. Another quiet evening ruined. She rolled her eyes, swaying back and forth in the arrangement of iron and wood as the young noble below threw things about; books, dishes, food… screaming all the while about how he had been relying on the pestilence demon to bring plague to the villagers, so he could bask in their slow deaths and relish every moment that they suffered.

"_The Andras was a _warning." He hefted a chair and sent it sailing through one of the ornate glass windows. Glass tinkled, raining down all around him. "_It was a bringer of death! A messenger for the Judgment that would come to pass!!! How am I supposed to get my message through if all my bedamned creatures are getting themselves killed?!?_" He threw himself at a bookshelf, knocking it down with a creak and a groan, before proceeding to throw silver candlesticks at the walls, crushing the candles themselves underfoot. The succubus aided him by idly picking some of the chandelier's own lights and dropping them to the floor, sighing resolutely as he kicked them out of his path. Hands had become talons and wings had torn through the back of his second best coat as he set about mauling the fine woodwork panels around the room and setting the carpets on fire. It was only once he was done burning things that she drifted back down with the imp in her palm to stand before the huffing Blackmoore.

"You're being childish again, Marcel." She said dryly. "You know not if the Andras was successful or not. Stop being such a baby and hear the imp out." She scratched the little creature under its chin. "Who knows, the news might be better than you thought."

The incubus narrowed his eyes at her, thrusting a hand out like a sullen child. With a little nudge, the tiny messenger left the succubus' palm to perch upon the noble's wrist. Striding back to his splintered chair, he kicked at a silver platter before seating himself heavily into it and glaring down his nose at the creature. "Go on then." He said softly. The succubus rolled her eyes again. His whine was always more pronounced when he was angry.

As the creature relayed what it had seen, two waiter skeletons slunk into the room and set about righting the table, cleaning up the glass and china and food from the floor, dumping water on the smoldering remains of the rugs and tablecloth. Blackmoore's face was grim as the imp's high pitched twitter fell quiet. Without warning, he lashed out at one of the skeletons, its bones crumbling to dust from the force of his attack, the pile of dishes it was carrying clattering to the floor. In the same instant, he had crushed the imp in his palm, until red flowed down his wrist and tiny bones crackled beneath his fingers. Throwing the bloody pulp that had once been an imp to the floor, he ground it into the stones with the heel of his boot before standing up and striding through a pair of ruined glass doors onto a small balcony. The fresh air and light of the half moon calmed him considerably, though his eyes glowed a fierce crimson in the dark.

"The master's ungrateful half breed son has risen again." He said softly, aware of the succubus standing in the doorway. "He has crossed paths with Belmont and the two of them travel to the north. Do you know what lies in the north?"

The succubus was silent for a long moment. "Castlevania." She said finally.

"Castlevania." Blackmoore sneered. "They think all their problems solved by going back to where it all began. The place is nothing more than a ruin, a faint and distant memory. Won't they be disappointed when they find that there is nothing there?" He bared his fangs. "I can see no other reason for them to go that way. There is only wilderness. Wilderness and beasts and one half dead little town. And I'm sure the villagers of said town are half dead with superstitions of each other. They do not respect travelers. Perhaps those fools can do our work for us. They would all be dead if the Andras had gone to them uninterrupted."

"You would speak so crudely of your own birthplace?" The succubus drawled. She had not expected him to whirl upon her, strong claws wrapped about her throat as he thrust her back into the wall, fury blazing in his eyes once again. She coughed, choking, tugging at his hands as his grip tightened.

"That town is no birthplace of mine!" He snarled. "You whore… You dare even suggest such a thing?! Those men and women are fools… fools who all deserve to die slow, horrible deaths at my hands. Treachery is rewarded with treachery, and I will give them a reason to crave the black abyss! They are sinners and they shall be the first to suffer my Judgment!!" He thrust her aside violently, ignoring her whimper of pain as she struck the open door. Without another word, he whirled, wings twitching furiously as he strode back indoors.

The succubus gingerly touched her throat, coughing as she rose to her knees. All plans had been forgotten in the incubus' fury, and she dare not bring them up to him again for a time, just for her own safety and his sanity. Getting to her feet, she leaned against the balcony rail, taking in deep breaths of the cool night air. Tonight had been too close. The succubus liked to think that she was independent and could do as she pleased, but when Blackmoore let his temper get away with him, she could never help but dance on that unsteady ground, egg him on in his rage. Very seldom did it turn onto her, but it was moments like this that she had to forcefully remind herself that Blackmoore was stronger than she and ten times as dangerous. She wanted to see this 'judgment' he claimed he would bring, but it would be nigh impossible if she goaded him into a killing fury beforehand.

The tinkle of breaking china reached her pointed ears, followed by a string of swears and curses. She rolled her eyes, but made no attempt to retreat into the house again. Let him destroy everything in his pointless rages. At least she would live through this night.

* * *

Blackmoore has anger issues D:

Your reviews are loved.


	14. Traveling

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania. Imagine how awful the series would be if I did D: Seriously, I have NO talent for scriptwriting. I've spent the past 3 days trying and its just not working. Also, this fic contains **yaoi**. But you should know that by now. I mean, I've only been saying it for the past 13 chapters.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Agh, late update is horribly awfully late. I've spent my past 2 weeks at University for the first time, and the past 4 days discovering the joys of RPG maker, which in turn delayed this fic by a couple of days/weeks/months/whatever Dx Please forgive, I am now one of the busy majority and am already sorely missing my leisure time D:  
In chapter notes; Firstly I wasn't sure about what Malphas/Karasuman really looked like, so I've probably botched his appearance quite a bit. Spending hours squinting at sprites didn't help, so, if it comes down to it, just blame Marcel's potion for him turning out a little differently. Secondly, Blackmoore himself. A lot of who I based his character off shows up in his small segment... coupled with his name, it should be obvious who he takes after by now x3  
YAY, TREVOR WAS MENTIONED 8D And Alucard is very particular about his clothes... it was a small detail that kept niggling at the back of my mind and wouldn't go away until I incorperated it into the story Dx

Nonetheless, thanks for being so patient with this chapter. Read on and enjoy~

* * *

_Traveling_

He cursed the demon that had laid him so low. For three days now Richter had not moved from the small clearing, had spent all his time lying curled beneath the dhampire's cloak with his head resting on his own bundled up coat as a pillow, feeling utterly miserable. The Andras he had battled those handful of days ago had left its mark; but while the scars on his cheek and the claw wounds on his hip and thigh would not prove a hindrance, the pestilence he had breathed into his lungs was something that he could not ignore. His skin was still hot to touch, his chest hurt when he breathed, and he couldn't stay upright for more than five minutes before he was overcome with waves of dizziness and nausea.

He had foolishly tried to get up and leave the day after the battle, lurching through the forest trail and leaning against the trees every few moments until Alucard had silently gotten up from his perch by the fire and followed after him, placing a hand on his shoulder. The dhampire's expression was calm but Richter was satisfied to see the faintest hint of impatience twitching the corner of his mouth. His words, however, soon brought a frown to the hunter's lips.

"Those werewolves are not so weak that a hunter in a sickened condition can finish them off, even with Vampire Killer as his chosen weapon." His voice was cold and expressionless. "To force yourself onward in your state is madness. We will lose the trail if we have to stop and allow you to heave into the bushes every two minutes." Richter's frown only deepened at the disdain in his tone. "You need rest and time to recover. We can make up for what was lost once you are well again." The hunter knew the truth of his words, but it infuriated him to hear it expressed in that matter of fact tone. This was just another hindrance he could do without… but his lungs burned and his head would not stop spinning and he knew that there was no other way.

They had been unable to identify the pestilence that Richter had breathed, but Alucard assured him in his quiet way that it was not plague of any sort and that he would, by no means, die from it. He was fevered and had trouble breathing, yes, but that could be attributed to the cloying, dusty feathers of the beast's wings as much as anything else it carried. Looking through the hedgewitch's potions, the dhampire had not been able to find a medicine that would help Richter directly so had spent most of the first day and a half at the hunter's side, seeing him through the worst of his fever.

Richter had taken comfort in the gesture and had spent that time in a haze between horror and reality. His dreams were plagued by shadows of wolves and harsh, cruel laughter, beings without heads and waterfalls of blood. Everything was overshadowed by a faceless creature with soft wings; like an Andras but perfectly formed, pure in its evil and pestilence. He had cringed and cried out, bitten his lips and clawed at his wounds, but every time Alucard had awoken him and hushed him. The dhampire was surprisingly tender in his actions; telling him softly that it had just been another dream, gently cleaning those self inflicted wounds with a damp cloth, smoothing tendrils of hair away from the flushed face. Each time he soothed the hysteria that had built up in Richter's mind, the hunter slept peacefully for longer and longer intervals. The dreams lessened, but his strength did not recover.

--

Night found him facing the fire with Richter asleep by his side. The hunter was shivering despite the warmth of his cloak and the dhampire reached out to smooth his hair as a whimper passed his lips. Even in the flickering light, Alucard could see the sheen of sweat upon the other man's brow; it worried him that Richter had not yet recovered. Something about this was not right… he had a suspicion that this was linked to the increasing restlessness he had felt as the days had passed. There was a presence with them in this clearing, a presence that had been growing in influence since they had first stopped to rest here. The dhampire had felt that he was almost unnecessarily wary, especially after stalking the forest surrounding their small glade and finding nothing amiss.

As he drew back, he caught a movement in the corner of his eye; something shifted in the branches above and the harsh squalling of crows suddenly filled the night time air, as though in response to his unsettling thoughts. Alucard tensed, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword. The forest that had been silent since they arrived was now filled with the sound of rushing wings and coarse, cackling laughter. Calling quietly to his familiar, the dhampire rose to his feet, stretching a hand out as the bat swooped into view. Drawing the small creature to his lips, he muttered softly to it, almost urgently.

With a squeak, the bat launched itself into the deep shadows created by the flickering firelight. Golden eyes watched its rapidly disappearing form as the Alucard sword was freed from its scabbard with the barest hiss of silver. He had barely taken two steps when the shadows overhead exploded in a shower of sleek black crows. The bat was tumbling in the sudden gale of them, fighting to free itself from the crowd. Its shrieks were lost amongst the whirling of wings and chorus of caws. Alucard's eyes widened; he felt a thrill of shock as he realized that those glittering red eyes had only one target in mind, and that it was neither him nor his familiar.

Richter awoke in time to find those golden eyes inches away from his face, the weight of the other man's body pressed heavily against him. He would have cried out in indignation, had he not seen the storm of crows whirling down from the trees above, their raucous cries filling the night air as each dove down, driving its sharp beak with an inhuman amount of force into the dhampire's back; into what should have been his own chest and stomach had Alucard not thrown himself into their path. The other man buckled beneath the pressure of their attack, his features twisting into a grimace of pain as a soft sound of agony passed his clenched teeth. The hunter watched, horrified as each bird drew back with a bloodied beak and sailed off into the night. Alucard shifted to his hands and knees, hissing between his teeth, his body still arched protectively over Richter's form.

"Are you harmed, Belmont?" He asked softly.

The hunter opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the merest breath of laughter. The fire flickered, a great shadow looming across from them. The dhampire turned his head, his form a blur as he snatched up the Alucard sword and leapt to his feet to face the shadow's owner. Richter had to stifle a gasp of horror at the sight he was greeted with as the dhampire turned; the back of the other man's coat shone wetly in the firelight and was punctuated in quite a few places with small, beak sized holes. The hunter had no doubt that the vest and shirt beneath were pierced in much the same way. The crows had struck hard, far more deeply than one would imagine mere birds were capable of doing.

This could only mean one thing…

He struggled to sit up, groping for Vampire Killer in the folds of his coat as a fresh wave of nausea assaulted him. On their own, crows had never been a threat. The spectral Blue crows and the blood soaked Red crows could not even do this much harm. There was a force acting behind them, something that commanded and empowered them... but he could not think of what it might be. The sight of the dhampire's wounds had driven everything but concern for the other man from his mind. Alucard had shielded him from those creatures and received those horrible injuries in turn, and now he was facing down whatever had directed those vile birds alone. Vampire Killer would not do much in trembling hands, but if they could stop whatever this monstrosity was, if he could help in some way…

He forced himself to his knees in time to catch a flash of silver and black beyond the flickering light, the faintest image of a smooth, perfect face and soft, black wings before the fire suddenly spluttered and died. Richter looked around warily as a chill wind howled through the trees, the sudden absence of warmth making him shiver uncontrollably. Alucard had taken a step forward as though to follow whatever they had seen, but looking back at the hunter, his golden eyes aglow in the absence of light, he stopped and crouched beside the other man's kneeling form.

"It has fled." He said softly. "I fear we may have to leave here, Belmont. Come morning, we had best be away in case the monster decides to attack again." He tensed slightly as Richter half fell, half slumped against his chest. The questioning look in his eyes was soon replaced with a twitch of pain as one of the hunter's arms slipped around him to carefully touch and probe at the wounds beneath his clothes. Alucard could see, even through the gloom, the clear expression of concern and bemusement on his face.

"Why…?" Richter's voice cracked from disuse, but he didn't seem to care. "You… these are deep wounds, Alucard…" He looked around blearily. "Where's the satchel?"

The dhampire shook his head. "Worry not about me." He said softly, gently taking hold of the other man's wrist and tugging his hand away. "Injuries like these are mere grazes. They will heal on their own. Save your potions for a time when you truly need them." Looking around for his familiar, he raised a hand, kindling a single ball of flame in his palm and holding it to the unburned wood in the fire pit. Within moments it had caught and soon the clearing was filled with warm orange light again. He caught sight of the hunter glancing around, and quietly tugged the satchel away from where it lay by the fire. Richter all but glowered at him.

"What happened?" The hunter demanded, his eyes alert now. "Why did those crows…? And what was that thing by the fire?" He felt a fool for asking one question after another, but all of this had been so sudden and he had been ill for the past few days. If they had been threatened, Alucard had not told him and to be left out of any warning only served to stoke his temper. Richter did not wish to be treated like a child; and as he glowered at the other man, he knew that Alucard understood that. But the dhampire shook his head, his gaze silent and solemn as he passed the hunter a cup of water.

"I did not think we were in any danger or I might have alerted you sooner, Belmont." He opened the satchel and dug around inside it for the sewing implements the hedgewitch had left behind. "Do not think that I would have betrayed your trust… I was worried. Worried that an idle fear would put extra strain on your condition." Golden eyes glanced over at him. "As for that creature, I was unable to look at it properly. It was a mere shadow of its form, more like a projection of itself… it was not present here in this clearing, yet I have been sensing it for a few days now. I had no idea that it would attack and for a moment I was afraid that I would be unable to stop it." As he spoke, he slid out of his coat, laying the garment over his knees and tsking at the holes the crows had managed to make in the cloth. Richter did not fail to notice a glimmer of relief in his eyes as the dhampire purposely kept his gaze lowered.

"Why though?" He murmured, taking a long, slow sip of his water. "Why would they come after me with such force?"

Alucard calmly threaded a needle before raising his gaze to the hunter's own. "I am sure you know the answer to that." He said gravely.

--

Shadows.

He adored shadows. He had ever since he was a little child, playing in the dust of the cobbled streets. Here, in the basement of his home, he could relive the joy he had felt dancing amongst them and making all sorts of creatures by merely moving his hands. Here he was away from the succubus' jeering comments and the idiocy of his servants, both of which usually had him in a terribly foul mood. Here he felt no anger, only a childish sort of joy. The cold, dank stone room was like that of a dungeon cell, and for all he knew, this place had once been a complete dungeon a long, long time ago. There were many other stone cells like the one he stood in, all lining a corridor also composed of cold, dank stone, but this one was the farthest from the steps that led up into his library; the coldest, darkest cell he could find.

He could never fail to notice a contrast between the two rooms that brought him the most pleasure; the library with its wide, vast windows and seemingly endless shelves of grimoires and tomes, the sun always bursting through and filling the room with weak, wintry light. Even when it was cold, all he had to do was wrap his wings around himself and curl up before the fire in his armchair… he could lose himself for hours on end in those books, though he must have read everything in his home at least a hundred times by now. The dungeons made him feel just as happy; for though they were cold and frigid even in the warmest weather, the stones told no secrets and reeked of fear and old blood… and he adored that smell, mingled with the fragrance of melting wax, accompanied by the hiss and splutter of a hundred candles upon various spindly iron stems. In this cold stone room the candles did not seem to glow warmly, though they filled the space with a dull, orange light. It was perfect for playing with shadows, for the moment he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, he could see his own black silhouette standing at his side.

Marcel Blackmoore liked to think that he had shadowplay refined to a fine art; he had spent hours upon hours down here in his carefree days, twisting and writhing until the shadow upon the wall formed into fierce and hideous creatures. He was not responsible for forming the beasts that now roamed Walachia, though he dearly wished that he was, but playing with his shadow was the next best thing. Over the years, he had become so confident in his movements, so precise in his actions that the creatures he could form with his shade could terrify and dishearten. Only recently had he learned that he could use such a thing as an extension of his own body, shaping a black beast with a roll of his hips and a raise of his arm, then setting it upon his enemies with a mere wave of his hand. He had killed mercilessly and randomly with his body's shadow, collected the shades of his victims and nourished himself with them… the glee that it left him with knew no bounds.

But tonight he had no time to play with inky wolves or bats; as much as he would have loved to, he was down here on business. And business required an incubus, not a man.

One long, claw-like finger slid his spectacles up the bridge of his nose as a tremor went through his body and his wings burst from his back with a wet crackling noise. Two black horns, one broken at the tip, stretched and shifted beneath the luscious red curls of his hair as his ears lengthened to fine points and fangs pricked his tongue. He shed his clothing with a shiver, pausing to survey the fierce silhouette that mirrored his form upon the wall. It was not often that he transformed completely, for the hungry desire that filled him drove his worst instincts forward… and he could not afford to be distracted by the charms of the body or his own clenching abdomen right now. Clearing his throat and taking a deep, deep breath, he kicked his clothes into a corner, taking up a small pouch from where it hung on a nail by the door. Taking a handful of what looked like ash from it, he whirled and cast the powder with a wide sweep of his hand, scattering it upon the candles crowded in the room. All at once, orange flames flickered and turned a pale, ethereal blue.

Breathing deeply again, the incubus strode to the centre of the room and closed his eyes, trying not to shiver at the sudden chill that swept through him. Behind him, his shadow danced and twitched jerkily in time with the flickering candles. He stood with head bowed; trying to ignore the wanton pangs of lust that his fully transformed self always seemed to battle with. It was not long before a tingling let itself be known in his fingertips, traveling up his arms and sweeping throughout his entire being that made him moan in ecstasy. He tilted his head back, shivering as he raised a taloned hand to his own throat and drove his nails into the fair flesh. Crimson eyes slipped shut as he was filled with a strong, dark presence; the very essence of one that was dead yet not dead, alive but not within the land of the living. This presence that had been waiting and biding its time. That had turned Blackmoore into the sensual creature that he was now.

Every time he had a question or a fear, he had come here and scattered the ashes of death; he had called to his master and reveled in the guidance that the shade had given him. How he had come across the book that had divulged such secrets to him, he could only vaguely remember. It had fallen at his feet when he struck one of the bookshelves in a rage. Though what he had been fuming about at the time, he couldn't recall. He loved the master's counsel, the feeling of fulfillment when the shade's presence entered his body, but he never dreamed of abusing it for his own selfish needs. He was conceited and self serving, but he was empty inside, longing for a completeness that only the master could fulfill.

His thoughts were quickly brought back to the situation at hand as a sharp prickle of pain made itself known through his veins. "_I long for a demon._" He breathed. "_One with wisdom and power at its disposal. I want them to suffer terribly; I want you to taste their pain upon my tongue._" His voice was barely more than a whisper, his body trembling slightly as blood from his wounds trickled slowly down over his collarbone. "_I beg you… show me a demon that can destroy those who wronged me in the slowest, most terrible way._"

He shivered as a surge of approval ran through him and caught a faint image behind his eyelids; a handsome gentleman whose silver hair and moustache gleamed in the flickering candlelight. The golden eyes were not the eyes of a young man, but sharp and wise, cold and cunning. Right now they were narrowed in thought, the shade coming to a conclusion moments later as one grayish hand lifted to caress the incubus' cheek. Blackmoore tilted his head into that cold, ghostly caress, barely feeling the dry chill of the grave, only craving his master's approval. Not a word was said, but the incubus understood as he felt a whisper of a touch ghost down his shoulders and arms, making him shiver in delight. Moments later, the master was pulling away from him, receding back to the twilight from which he had come, leaving the incubus to drop to his knees, weak with loss. His eyes opened slowly, wings folding carefully about his shoulders as he tilted his head down to stare at the floor to find the source of the soft gagging noise that had come from somewhere by his knees. Standing on the flagstones, its shadow wavering uncertainly beside his own, was a sickly looking crow. Blackmoore blinked, sliding his glasses up his nose as he lifted the bird into one hand and gazed long and hard at it. It stared balefully back at him.

Getting to his feet, the incubus frowned. "_For your sake, I hope you'll be spectacular._" He hissed, taking hold of the bird's wings and ignoring its squawk of protest. Without a second thought, he pulled hard, wrenching the bones from their sockets, ripping and tearing, ignoring the crow's screams of pain and agony, until the wingless bird thumped to the floor where it floundered helplessly, its two wings held in the incubus' now bloodied hands. With a satisfied smirk, he tossed them aside and reached for a small phial resting on the stone flags a little ways away; carefully uncorking it and drawing in the dark, metallic fragrance of the black liquid inside. Seizing the flailing crow around its neck, he forced its head back and trickled three droplets of the fluid past its beak before letting it go to fall upon the ground again.

The bird never struck the floor, however, its fall slowed as it shivered and twisted like a grotesque puppet on strings. Blackmoore took a step back and watched appreciatively, his crimson eyes hungry as the crow's bloodied, broken form writhed and bulged, its red eyes wide and all but popping in their sockets as it lengthened. Scaly bird talons stretched and turned into all too human feet as well muscled limbs formed from the splintered bone and muscle left behind by the violent removal of its wings. Feathers seemed to shift from the body to gather at the creature's back, where four soft black wings sprouted. The neck lengthened, the head became less birdlike and more human, the beak receding into a pair of soft, grey lips in a smooth, perfect face. With a breathy sigh, the newly formed demon stretched languidly and turned to him. A thrill shot through the incubus' body as he gazed upon this creature, noting that even in its flawless beauty, he could not see its eyes. There was only smooth, sunken skin where its eyeballs should have been. A smile crossed his lips as his gaze roamed the demon's naked form, its finely muscled body covered by skin as black as ebony… truly this was the patron of crows and the other grave-birds that danced amongst the dead of battle.

He saw those soft lips part to speak, and quickly stepped forward to touch his finger to the creature's mouth. "_Speak not a word._" He breathed softly. "_Not until this bargain is satisfied to my tastes and you are fed. I am your summoner and your master. Let my blood pass your lips and obey nobody but me._" He slid his hand along the perfectly formed jaw line, cupping the demon's face and pulling it to the still bleeding wounds at his throat. There was only a moment's hesitation as a thin, wormlike tongue lapped cautiously at the flow of blood before driving deeply into the wounds themselves. He could feel the demon's pleasure at feasting as two dark hands clutched at his shoulders to pull him closer, the slight sting of pain at the defiling of his injuries. A groan parted his lips as his body began to respond to the sensations assailing him in this creature's embrace. Pain and warmth, pressed to the naked form of the god of crows. Desire filled him as he pried a hand from where it gripped almost painfully at his arm and guided it down to the growing heat between his legs. To his delight, the creature knew exactly what he wanted and he soon found his eyes slipping shut in ecstatic pleasure as he was gripped tightly in a warm hand and slowly stroked to completion. They remained entwined for some time, the silence pierced only by Blackmoore's moans and the wet sounds of the creature's feasting.

A cry of euphoria echoed around the small room as the blue flames dulled to orange and the two demons broke apart; Blackmoore panting heavily, the crow beast licking its lips. The pact was sealed, the demon fully formed, the incubus sedate and satisfied.

"_Speak._" He commanded, taking the creature's hand and lapping pearly fluid from its wrist. "_What are you called, my bringer of judgment?_"

The other regarded him silently for a long moment, the smooth, sightless face surveying him with an expression of faint amusement.

"_Karasuman."_ It uttered finally, its voice the barest whisper of breath in the candle filled room.

--

Alucard tilted his face up to gaze at the trees overhead. Between the close knit branches and needles, he could barely see the sky… a few flecks of black studded here and there with small twinkling stars. He was waiting a little distance away from the clearing with its warm, bright fire, scanning the darkness for his familiar. Since the sudden attack, the forest had returned to its usual solemn quiet, the dark presence having seemed to depart with the birds. Even so, the dhampire was taking no chances. He had sent the bat out to make sure nothing lurked in the darkness unseen. Nearly losing the hunter once this night was more than enough.

He shifted a little as a chill wind blew through the trees, causing the fire behind him to waver and the shadows to lengthen. As he turned to make sure Richter was still safe and asleep, he felt a twinge of pain in his back, a barely audible noise of impatience rumbling his throat. He could feel the wounds through his clothing, slight indents where his fingers pressed. They were healing rapidly, nothing more than deep scratches now, but still they caused discomfort. His expression softened slightly as he kept his eyes on the branches overhead, remembering the concern that the hunter had shown while his injuries had still bled freely.

Richter had held his silence for so long while he lay next to the dhampire, his eyes half shut as he lazed in the twilight between alertness and sleep. He had eaten a little and drank more than half a cup of water... it made the other man hopeful, as though his condition was improving now that the malevolent presence had lifted from the clearing. His skin was still hot when Alucard laid a hand against his forehead, but the spark of alertness was returning to his eyes. The dhampire had continued his mending, the hunter drowsing to the sound of the crackling flames. It was only when Alucard had stripped off his vest to mend a few stray rents that Richter sat up abruptly and gasped.

"Belmont?" His gaze had been curious, thinking that Richter may have seen something in the dark. It was only when he felt the chill touch of cold blood against his back did he realize what had the hunter so shocked.

"You're still bleeding, Alucard..." The concern in that hoarse voice was touching. He looked at the other man from the corner of his eye, catching a glimpse of that tired face, his cloak fallen about the strong hips, coat half tangled around the arm he used to support himself. It was the look in the hunter's eyes, however, that made him leave off his work and turn completely. Those eyes full of worry, filled with a desire to help.

"You will not rest until I've seen to these, will you?" he muttered softly, setting his vest aside. The faintest trace of amusement graced his features. That gaze stirred the faintest memory. Another with the same fierce orbs, glaring at him in worry and concern. Richter was so like that other in many ways, even now he could see the resemblance... how he had not noticed it sooner, he was unsure. There had been more pressing matters at hand than comparing the hunter's to a face from long ago.

"I will not." Richter nodded, flushing a little deeper under his solemn eye. A cold wind blew through the clearing again, raining evergreen needles down upon them and causing a shiver to pass through the hunter's body. The collar of his shirt was low cut, the dhampire's gaze drawn to the finely muscled chest visible between the folds of cloth for a mere instant before Richter tugged the fabric closer against his skin to ward off the chill.

"Very well." Alucard nodded stiffly, looking around for the satchel. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Richter open his mouth as though to say something, but the hunter retreated beneath his cloak a moment later, pulling it up around his shoulders and watching the dhampire through tired eyes. The silence stretched between them as Alucard slid out of his shirt and began to awkwardly salve his wounds with one of the hedgewitch's balms. The bat squeaked advice to him from the shadows of the trees. Richter had almost completely fallen asleep again when the dhampire spoke suddenly.

"You remind me of him, Belmont. You and your accursed stubbornness."

It was spoken more to himself than the hunter; he had assumed that Richter had fallen asleep already. But the other man smiled a sleepy smile, a soft hum of curiosity the only indication that he was vaguely listening to the other man's sudden statement. "Who, Alucard?" One eye opened a little wider, as though to half survey the other man. "Do you mean... my ancestor?" he murmured softly. "You... fought together a long time ago, did you not?"

The dhampire turned from where he had been examining his blood drenched shirt, surprised at the ease in the hunter's voice. Hearing Richter speak so softly, in an almost intimate tone... he shook his head. The voice had a warm edge to it, an edge that could only have been brought on by his fatigue. Even as he watched, heavy lids began to slip lower over those dark blue eyes. Alucard set his clothing aside, pulling his vest back on before striding across to the fire to mutter softly into the exhausted hunter's ear.

"We did. But that is a story for another time, Belmont. Rest now."

And Richter sighed as Alucard fixed the cloak about his shoulders, eyes closing as one gloveclad hand gently carded through his hair.

The dhampire had returned to his mending after that, using water that they had gathered at the last stream they had crossed to wash the worst of the bloodstains from his clothes. It was only after this that he had retreated from the clearing, scanning the surrounding area for that dark presence, for any presence that would threaten to do them harm. A rustle in the trees alerted him to the small black bat swooping out of the shadows, and he quietly lifted a hand so the creature had somewhere to perch. Judging by his familiar's ease, there was nothing left for them to fear. Relieved, he turned back to the clearing, noticing that the fire was beginning to burn low in its small circle of stones.

He did not realize that it was because a soft, black creature was fanning it with its wings. Not until he stood on the edge of the clearing and saw the beast perched by the fire, its lips stretched in a smile of contentment.

"_Did you think me gone, o son of the Lord of Darkness?"_ Its voice was low and soft, hoarse as though it was getting over some terrible illness. His hand flew to his side for the Alucard sword, his face set in a cold, emotionless mask.

"Leave here, demon." he said, voice equally as soft as the creature's. "I have had more than enough of your tricks this night."

It laughed then, a soft gurgling, choking sound that rose to a mocking crescendo, like a cough and a sob. It turned its smooth, perfect face to him, the dying fire causing deep shadows to pool in the hollows where its eyes should have been.

"_Does your body ail you, halfling?"_ It whispered, rising slowly to its feet. _"Did my children rent too great a hole in your tender flesh that you do not even come closer to give me proper greeting as is my due? Are you afraid, halfling? That I will do worse to you?"_

Alucard did not rise to its baiting, merely drew his sword from its sheath. The creature watched him through its nonexistent eyes, taking slow, deliberate steps across the clearing, its four wings gently waving in the breeze. For a moment it seemed as though it was halfheartedly circling him, but suddenly it turned away and took up a different direction.

"_Lower your blade, half blood."_ It demanded softly, turning slightly to look over its shoulder at him. The ease and grace of the demon's movements was infuriating, but the dhampire did not let any such expression cross his face. He recognized the monster now, felt the faint hum of darkness that accompanied it when it moved. The malevolent god of crows; the demon that feasted upon the flesh of the fallen with the birds that it protected.

"You do not command me." He replied, surprised at the amount of venom in his own voice. This was no mere demon to be taken lightly; this was a patron. Karasuman. A minor god of sorts. But there were people still who prayed to the crows. For what reason and what mindset they were in, he could not know, but with their prayers was power... and power made this bird-creature stand above anything he or Richter had faced in the past.

"_I do not..." _the god nodded slowly. _"That may be, but..." _It stooped, dipping one hand down, an appreciative sigh parting its lips. _"You will lower your sword for this one's sake..."_

Alucard was running at the god even before he realized it; as soon as the black, taloned hand flicked his cloak aside and touched the sleeping hunter's skin in a lavish caress, he had not hesitated. Something fierce and protective stirred in his breast and he lunged, raising a deep red slash in one of Karasuman's soft wings as the god leapt out of the way. The bird-like hiss seemed to reverberate around the clearing as the creature faded into the shadows. The dhampire tensed, ready for an attack, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Richter was unharmed. It was in that one instant that the god reappeared across the firepit, leaping at him with wings outspread.

With a hiss and a wail, it knocked the dhampire to the ground, the two of them tumbling a short distance away, Alucard releasing his sword to catch hold of the clawed hands that were tearing at his face and fend the creature off. Karasuman's hisses and rasping breaths were close against his ear, he could feel the demon's breath on his skin as those claws broke his grip and caught him across the cheek, renting gashes in the unprotected flesh of his arms and neck. Twisting and struggling beneath the demon's body, he managed to work one knee up under himself, kicking savagely and throwing the god off him.

Karasuman squawked in surprise, its cry cut short as its head struck a tree a moment later. Alucard was on his knees in an instant, groping in the loam for his sword. His fingers closed about the familiar hilt and before the demon had time to recover, he was on his feet, driving the blade deep into the creature's abdomen, wrenching up with so much force that he was struck with the spray of blood that followed. Breathing heavily, he flicked the gore from his sword before pointing it at the panting, hissing creature before him.

"Let that serve as a warning." He said softly, dangerously. "You dare to touch him and I will destroy you."

The god clamped a hand over its broken, bleeding body, cawing softly. Even as the dhampire watched, the taloned hand traveled down, over the great slash that had almost torn half of its torso away. Where the hand moved, a shower of black feathers fell, the flesh beneath healed and whole, but for a faint, ropey scar marking the path of his sword. The demon hissed softly, pushing away from the now blood spattered tree it had been leaning on. One wing fell to the forest floor, twisting and writhing, its black feathers becoming black crows who shrieked and moaned softly in dying agony.

"_And what has he done to deserve such care?" _The grey lips twisted in a smile of suppressed pain. _"The last time I watched you strike with so much passion was century upon century ago... and even then you could not save her."_ The smooth head lifted as the Alucard sword pricked its throat. The dhampire's eyes were glowing in the dark shadows with untamed fury, though his face itself was as expressionless as marble. _"Can it be, halfling? I see more than comradeship in your eyes when you look at that man..."_

It had expected him to lunge then, and with another harsh caw, it shifted, its body dissolving into a mass of black feathers, just as the Alucard sword buried itself into the tree where its throat had been an instant before. The feathers twisted, picked up by a frigid gust of wind, and as they were carried away, they became black crows with glowing eyes, cawing and laughing. Mocking. It was all a fine game to this lesser god, even if it earned a few wounds in the process. This would surely be the first of many encounters.

Alucard ripped his blade from the tree, sliding it back into its scabbard and watching as the crows flew into the trees and out of sight. Raising one hand, he wiped the blood from his face, brushing at his arms in the same fashion before retreating back into the clearing.

He cleaned the wounds as best he could, but made no effort to bind them; already he could feel them closing up and healing over. Only then did he remember the hunter, and made his way quickly to Richter's side.

As the crows had departed, so too had his anger. Now there was nothing but concern left for the other man's safety. He was relieved to find that Richter still slept, the deep sleep of a man recovering.

The cloak had fallen away from his sleeping form, and it was this that the dhampire carefully settled over him after checking the dusky flesh for any mark, any injury that Karasuman might have left when he had touched the hunter only moments ago. The skin was smooth and fever warm beneath his hand and Richter stirred slightly under his touch, eyelids twitching in his sleep, his lips ever so slightly parted.

_I see more than comradeship in your eyes when you look at that man..._

Could it be? This Belmont was so like his ancestor; proud and fierce, stubborn and beautiful. He had fought alongside that ancestor, protected him with his very life when it had come to it. Was that what was awakening this protective feeling? Or was it something else? A deeper cause lying beneath the surface. Richter was broken... haunted by something terrible that threatened his every waking moment and many of his sleeping ones. Alucard gazed at that sleeping face wishing that he knew the answer to both questions.

And Richter slept on, unaware of the battle that had just been waged all around him; spared from the sorrow and confusion in the dhampire's golden eyes.

* * *

I see the way you were looking at him there, Adrian.  
Reviewplz :D


	15. Dishearten

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania, Alucard, Richter or the great Walachian countryside and this fic is written purely for my own enjoyment. **Please bear in mind that it is a yaoi-fic and will eventually involve some penetration of the anal nature.**

AUTHOR'S NOTES: FGDSA. After only Hod knows how long away, I've finally FINALLY found some time to sit down and finish this chapter ;3; Thank you, everyone, for waiting this long for me to release this chapter! I haven't given up on Moonlight yet and I won't for a while, so I hope you'll stick with me while I continue to write this!  
Secondly, happy birthday to me~ Words do not describe how old I feel after realizing that I'm a whole year older than I was last year.  
I'd also like to take a moment to thank x_venal_x over on LiveJournal as well for the amazing art she drew of Blackmoore. This happened ages and ages ago, but she got him down so perfectly that I can't help but mention it again here :'D Thank you, venal!

As for in-chapter notes, I get the feeling I got needlessly descriptive in some places here... things have been written in like... chunks, so I don't feel the flow is quite right in places. Of course, that could just be me feeling out of the loop after all the business with that horrible University course orz. There's also a nice bit of Richter-gay for you to look at. Oh my, how daring. And in all honesty, I'm not really happy with the ending of this chapter... it seems a bit short in comparison to some of the previous ones, but I guess we can't have a nice, long chapter EVERY time? Its a sorrowful thought, but I didn't know how to go on without making it too long. Hopefully more will be revealed in chapter 16... which I will start as soon as I can catch another moment to myself.  
The page breaking bugged me so much, I put horizontal rulers in... Dx;; hopefully it won't be as much of a problem in the next chapter...

Read on~

* * *

_Dishearten_

"_... dreams... to break, to terrify... nothing will be the same... not for you... never... again..."_

_The shadows to his left shifted, sinuous and twisting like a ribbon in the breeze. A soft sigh of contentment followed it, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see more shadows moving, twisting and turning as though they were worn by some sort of spectral dancer, looping and whirling on themselves, the sparkle of candlelight very faint behind them, outlining their edges. He looked around worriedly, watching as the ribbons of shadow leapt across his vision and slowly began to twine themselves together before him, creating a tall, slender shadow form that he knew all too well. _

_Like a silhouette on the wall, Blackmoore looked for all the world like a shadow puppet, his eyes two wide, shining holes in his shadowed face, his fanged mouth a glowing, grinning gash. His usual finery was replaced with something that was, if possible, even more elaborate and fancy than normal; a bright display of silk and lace, each garment defined by a different colored glow behind it._

_Yet it was not the mere presence of the incubus or the gathered shadows that filled sent a thrill of fear through the hunter's heart. It was the appearance of his shadowed flesh beneath the glowing ruffles and carefully cut embroidery. It was not the black shadow of a man, for there was no muscle or bone. Only a thick swathe of inky darkness, wavering and shimmering in ribbon-tendrils, morphing and twisting into talons and wings, popping open with sets of blank, glowing silhouette eyes and mouths. He shifted and changed before the hunter's eyes, only his face remaining the same._

"_Do you like what you see, Belmont?" he asked in his well pronounced, aristocratic whine, the blackened shadow-cloth of his lips distorting. "This is where I come to play. This is my domain. My heart, my home." he waved a hand behind him, the barest outline of a stage and rich, heavy curtains visible in the dark. "You are the guest of honor here, Belmont. You continue to get in my way though I have asked you time and again not to. I said I would send you a nightmare for every creature you killed, every step closer that you came to me. And I have been sending them to you. Do you find them pleasant enough?" His voice was sarcastic and mocking, barely masking resentment and fury, betrayed by that pinpoint eye glimmering brightly in anger as he swayed backwards and forwards. One hand swept out in an elaborate gesture as ribbons of shadow morphed and whirled about his arm. "Do you not fear?" His arms became shadow serpents, hissing and writhing like two black worms, fangs extended and glinting in the odd backlight. They lunged and snapped at the hunter and he found himself recoiling in horror as saliva sprayed across his cheek and the air shifted past him as shadowed jaws snapped closed right before his face._

"_I will dedicate my next act to you, Belmont!" the incubus snarled, the serpents receding and his flesh boiling as he spoke. "I will give you a dream of a different nature! I will teach you to defy the will of Judgment and of what must be! You will rue the day you dared to stand in the way of Marcel Blackmoore!"_

_He threw his head back and let out a ragged howl of fury, his body seeming to explode as he did so. A cold, cruel wind swept up as black tendons and bones writhed and thrashed from his limbs, manipulating themselves into the shape of an enormous, hideous shadow-bat. His head snapped down again, still soft and human, their eyes meeting for a mere instant, the fury radiating from him overwhelming. With another roar he raised his arms and lunged, a twisted figure of nightmare, a shadow monster undefeatable. Vampire Killer was not in Richter's hand, he cried out as a bitter wind swept through him, heavy with the sickly sweet smell of death and decay._

"_This act is yours and yours alone! Enjoy the show!" Maddened laughter rang in his ears as the shadow beast knocked him to the floor, shrieking and cackling in glee, one enormous claw swinging down to stave his head in as he raised an arm in weak defense..._

Richter cried out, sitting up suddenly, just as the blow would have connected. He looked around warily, taking in the sight of the high pine trees, their needles dusted with a thin coating of snow. The glowing embers nestled in a small ring of stones brought little comfort against the chill wind that had quickly cooled the sweat on his body and left him shivering and feeling sick. Drawing Alucard's cloak around himself, he shuffled over on his hands and knees, tossing a few sticks of wood onto the fire and gently coaxing it back to life. It was only when the trees warmed with the flickering orange light did he allow himself to relax.

Beneath the tightly woven branches he had lost all sense of time. There was no way of knowing how long he and the dhampire had traveled through this forest with no sign of repose. They had seen no villages along the way, though once or twice they had come across a woodland cottage beside the overgrown forest roads. There were still signs of life, though Richter had been treated with fear and hostility when he had tried to approach those small homes for food and shelter. Alucard had kept his distance, saying that the hunter needed it more than he, and watched with an unreadable expression as the door was slammed in the hunter's face and the sign against evil was made through the windows.

But even as the days grew colder and snow began to coat the boughs above their heads, some of the stiff formality had worn off the two men. As they passed under the trees, Alucard had slowly adjusted his pace to suit Richter's... until he was no longer many strides ahead of the hunter. They walked side by side, their breath rising in mist from the wintery air, and though they still did not speak to one another, it comforted the hunter to know that he was no longer being ignored and walking as though alone. He often found Alucard glancing over at him, as though making sure that he was alright, the strangest, unfathomable expressions flashing across his features when he realized Richter was gazing back him.

Over the days they had traveled together, they had come across a great many monsters in the Walachian forest. The Andras had been the only one of its kind out prowling, but the two were constantly set upon by flocks of crows and snarling packs of Wargs, teams of hunched over Fleamen and even a monstrous Red Bat at one point. Together they always managed to overcome, but the further they went, the more ferocious and brutal the monsters became. They stepped away with more wounds every battle and when Richter had wondered if some power darker than Blackmoore was helping them along, Alucard had frowned and turned away.

The look in those golden eyes made Richter uneasy. Though the dhampire's face was calm, the cloak he wore could not disguise the tension in his body. It was as though his suspicions had been confirmed, as though something else lurked in the shadows, something that Alucard was aware of but could not quite dismiss. It was an ill-ease that reminded him of his own dreams, his own reluctance to sleep. The solemn dhampire would not speak of it, however, and Richter did not know how to pose the question to him without seeming rude, so the matter was left unaddressed...

The caw of an unseen bird in the trees startled him out of his thoughts as he lifted his hands to the flames, relishing the warmth. A sigh parted his lips as he thought on the words of the shadow-beast of his dreams. Blackmoore had not lied when he said he would create a nightmare in vengeance for every one of his creatures that Richter killed. His nights had been filled with the screams of his beloved wife, with the harsh laughter and cold caress of the Count. Time and again he relived his moments in that twilight between life and death, when the Manticore poison had seized his heart, over and over he watched as Annette was slain before his eyes, her corpse made into a dancing marionette where the incubus wielded the strings. He awoke in a cold sweat multiple times a night, his heart beating furiously in his chest and tears stinging his eyes.

Had he been traveling alone, he knew he would have gone mad with these terrible visions long ago. His heart was broken. His soul was tainted and crushed. He would never forget that, not as long as the dreams continued to assail him. But perhaps it was his penance for the sin that had accumulated within him, for the evil and wrongness that had filled his body and defiled him so completely. Once again he was reminded of how there was no hope. No salvation, no redemption... He hid his face in his hands as he felt the sorrowful burden descend upon his shoulders like a thick, heavy mantle.

"Richter."

The soft voice cut through the still air and he whirled around, surprised to find the dhampire stepping silently out from behind a tree. It unnerved the hunter how he could move so silently, even in a forest like this. How each step was precise, but no footfall heralded his presence at all. The bat was on his shoulder, small mouth open wide in a drowsy yawn.

"Was your sleep disturbed again, Belmont?" he asked softly, seating himself beside the other man. Concern flashed in those golden eyes as Richter looked away. The question had been unnecessary... he already knew the answer. Out of the corner of his eye, the hunter saw Alucard hesitantly raise a hand as though to reach out to him, but thought better of it and lowered his arm a moment later. "You seem so ill at ease..." It was the closest that the dhampire would get to asking him what had happened. He was too polite to ask outright.

With a sigh, he shook his head. "I could say the same for you, Alucard." he murmured. These sorrows were his own. Close as he and the dhampire had began to become, he was not comfortable sharing his burden with the other man. It would forever remain his to bear alone.

"Come, Richter." There was a rustle of cloth as Alucard shifted closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and coaxing him to turn. "This attitude helps nobody."

He frowned at the contact, lifting his gaze to find those golden orbs piercing his own. Searching those eyes, he could see only concern within them, a concern so intense that he struggled against the urge to blink and look away. Over the past few days the dhampire had begun to show an increasing amount of care for his traveling companion, care that Richter was grateful for, but reluctant to accept. He would trust his back to Alucard, but when the dhampire looked at him this way, it took all of his will not to avert his gaze. There was something eerily..._intimate_ about that look that sent a spasm of fear down his spine while at the same time warmed his heart that another would care for him so.

"I had a dream." He said finally, closing his eyes so he would not have to face that golden gaze. "The incubus... Blackmoore... he threatened me with... with a dream. A... another kind of dream, as he put it. I... dread to discover what he means by those words." He shook his head.

The dhampire looked thoughtful for a moment. "Another kind of dream...?" he frowned. "From my understanding, he torments you enough with your current visions. What could possibly be worse than the nightmares you have already described to me?" He was silent for a long moment, watching as a tremor passed through the hunter's body. Clearly there was something, but it was a something that the other man was not willing to share. "Stay strong, Richter." he said softly, looking away. "Whatever he sends you, you must remember that it just what it is. A dream, and nothing more." the hunter turned, feeling those fingers slip from his shoulder, somewhat heartened by those words.

"I shall keep that in mind." He muttered, more stiffly than he had intended. "But now that you have heard of the burden upon my heart, I would like to know of yours." Deep blue eyes narrowed as the dhampire turned his head very slightly to look at him again. It was a few moments before he spoke, and when he did there was reluctance in the soft baritone.

"I... have news on the werewolves. We are not far from them now and they have begun to slow their pace. I feel that they will soon stop and rest for the winter." He glanced down at his familiar. "The trees also begin to thin to the west... there is a small town a few days journey from here. For whatever reason, the villagers have not fled, though the surrounding forest is still awash with monsters. I believe we may be able to rest comfortably for a change, and perhaps gather news on the other towns far from here... assuming that we can win their trust."

Richter felt a thrill of surprise. It had felt like an eternity since he had last seen proper civilization... the suspicious folk in their wooden cottages had offered no consolation, but even if a town feared the travelers that entered it, they could hardly refuse two men a night's accommodation. Though Walachia lived in fear of the next monster to burst from the surrounding woodland, news from anywhere would be welcome. They would not be greeted by a volley of stones in a time like this. He was certain of it.

"Information..." He felt his lips quirk into a sad smile, his gaze drifting back to the fire. "I wonder how everyone is faring back at home. How Maria is doing and how those villagers are coping..." he trailed off, wondering too about the herbalist of the town back in the direction he had come. The one who had unwittingly led him to Alucard.

"You cannot travel to gather information yourself?" he asked, curiously. "What about the bat...?"

Alucard shook his head. "Neither myself or my familiar can travel so far in a single night. I can cover many more miles than you would be able to, but even I cannot traverse such a great distance in such a short span of time." He gazed into the fire, the crimson reflection mingling with the deep gold of his eyes. "And while I can listen to the creatures of the night air, they, more often than not, never have anything decent to say." He frowned disdainfully.

"I see..." the hunter struggled to quell the desire to ask what they spoke of. He wondered what it was like, to understand the speech of the animals around him. What sort of insignificant little things did they say to one another...? With an inward sigh, he looked towards the other man again, jolting suddenly as he realized the dhampire was no longer sitting alongside him.

Alucard stood on the edge of the circle of firelight, gaze drawn to the shadowed canopy above. His face was once again void of emotion, his coat draped over one arm. Sensing Richter's gaze, he turned back and headed towards the other man, holding the garment out to him.

"Cloak yourself with this." he said softly. "The night grows colder still, Richter. Perhaps a little more warmth can keep your dreams at bay." His eyes narrowed, stilling all protest in the hunter's throat. "Do not argue with me on this. The snow falls thickly and I know you feel the chill more terribly than I."

Richter nodded reluctantly, reaching for the cloth as the dhampire passed it to him, his fingers brushing against the pale hand. Averting his gaze, he suppressed a shudder. The other man's skin was as chill and frigid as that of his sire, reminding him painfully of those terrible memories he had struggled so hard to escape. Pulling the garment over his shoulders, he let the sleeves flap loose, balling his own coat into a semi-comfortable pillow before wrapping himself in the dhampire's cloak and lying down.

"Thank you, Alucard." he said softly, turning his face into the coat's high collar. It felt strange wearing the other man's clothes, but he did feel warmer with it on. There was a warm, dry scent to it that would have been comforting if the acrid tang of blood hadn't lingered on the cloth as well. He yawned, eyes slipping shut moments later.

The fire crackled warmly and lit the frosty clearing with its gentle glow. From his place at the edge of the circle of firelight, Alucard's gaze was drawn to the gloom and the shadows before him, where a flash of gold flickered for but an instant, accompanied by the soft, hoarse laughter of an aged crow.

"Rest well, Belmont." he breathed, stepping beyond the circle of light and watching silently in the gloom.

* * *

It was as they traveled into the light that they struck disaster.

All morning they had walked and Richter's gaze had been drawn to the trees around them, trees that were slowly thinning out, allowing the weak, winter sun to pass through the gaps in them and light the forest road more brightly than he'd seen in days. For once he could tell what hour it was by the position of the pale disc peering between the needles and branches. He had rejoiced at that. Alucard had remained indifferent.

The sound of rushing water had followed the return of sunlight and it hadn't been long before they'd happened across a wide river. Once there may have been strategically placed stones to enable crossing its swift waters, but Alucard quickly pointed out that some sort of creature must live in its depths, for these stones were no longer there and only fragments of jagged rock protruded above the waterline.

"Do you think that perhaps Blackmoore has placed some monster in the rivers as well?" Richter asked softly, eying the protruding shards of rock uneasily.

"Perhaps." The dhampire replied. "But whether he has or he has not, we cannot cross here. Come."

Without another word, he had turned, retreating back into the shadows of the trees, perching himself on a snow capped boulder and lifting the bat from the folds of his cloak. Richter watched him speak softly to the creature, lifting his hand to set it free as the next gust of chilling wind blew past. The bat flapped its wings sluggishly, its small squeak of indignation barely audible above the rustling and crackling of frost covered branches.

Their eyes were on its retreating form, the roar of the water was loud in their ears, but Richter was the first to pull his gaze away when he heard the wet slap of a body upon the forest road. Alucard was on his feet in an instant as a squeal of delight followed the sounds of more forms crawling from the river's bank. Vampire Killer cracked threateningly as the forms of shining red and gold slid through the snow towards them, the Alucard sword hissing softly as it was drawn from the scabbard.

Fishmen. They glistened brightly in the weak sunlight, the large fins upon their backs opened wide in anticipation of the kill, soft, scaled bodies throbbing as webbed feet slid and stumbled in the snow. Their small mouths snapped hungrily in their streamlined heads, beady black eyes glittering. Even as Richter cracked the holy whip again, he could see the punctures in the webbing of their fins, the oozing wounds and peeling flesh upon their bodies betraying the hateful nature they had against their own kind. Here and there a beast was missing a leg or a chunk of its fin. These creatures would as soon as fall upon and devour each other as they would upon himself and the dhampire. They squeaked and chattered to each other, hopping here and there and sliding on their bellies through the snow to get closer, to corner their prey. He felt Alucard grab his arm and haul him away from the river, where more and more of the creatures were heaving themselves out of the water with shrieks of glee.

"They haven't fed in some time..." the dhampire's voice was low and threatening. "Look. It is as though something hunts them."

While most of the creatures slid forth across the snow, others, the most lame and maimed ones, were hissing with pointed heads turned back towards the river as though afraid that another monster would appear at any moment to steal their meal away from them. Richter tilted his head, confused, crying out in surprise a moment later as one of the fishmen suddenly leapt for his throat with needle-like fangs bared. With a sharp cry, he flung his arm out in front of him, Vampire Killer ripping through the monster's soft abdomen, flaying its skin from its flesh with a sharp crackle of holy energy.

The other fishmen had fallen upon the corpse before it even hit the snow. Shrieking and wailing, the bit and snarled and tore at each other in their hunger before suddenly remembering that there were more spoils to be had. Alucard caught hold of the hunter's arm again, tugging him backwards, slowly backing away from the water and the hordes of monsters that leapt and fought there. But the beasts would not be so easily evaded. When the dead creature was nothing more than a few slender bones, they shrieked in excitement and hunger, a multitude of bodies sliding over the reddened snow. He had fought fishmen before, but never had the numbers been this great. Richter could no longer see the snow for all the glistening bodies covering it. He stumbled as the monsters slid into him, bumping against his legs, only to snap and tear at his clothing before he beat them away. Alucard's grip was pulled from him as the dhampire turned to fend off the creatures sliding about his own ankles and clawing at his cloak. The snow around his feet was awash with blood.

The fishmen were weak, easily defeated on their own, but such numbers would mean that where one was cut down another five would come to replace it, howling and crying in desperate fury. They pounced and snarled, bounding and leaping higher, and it wasn't long before the hunter felt webbed claws scrabbling at his arms and shoulders, found his vision filled with red maws and snapping teeth. He swing Vampire Killer wildly, tearing the creatures from his body and face, feeling a sick sense of dread when they drove him to his knees in the snow. There were so many, pressing against him, clawing and biting at him, sharp teeth embedding themselves into his arm as he desperately tried to shake them off to wield the holy whip properly... He felt webbed claws graze his throat, felt his head strike the snow covered ground... he was fighting for his life and it seemed that all hope was lost... Alucard cried out in pain somewhere beyond the teeming mass of fishmen that tried to devour him, the thrill of fear in his heart giving strength to his wounded and weary limbs. He lashed and struck out, drawing on the reserves of desperation, sending the monsters flying through the air and leaping back in surprise. Claws tangled in his hair and teeth snapped at the nape of his neck and he felt his head being pulled back, his throat exposed, while more hung grimly on to the sleeves of his coat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out one of the beasts leering unpleasantly, its body tense and poised for the kill. It leapt with a shriek of glee...

And then suddenly it had erupted into a crimson ball of flame. He felt an intense wave of heat engulf him as the creatures around him blazed into cinders. But there was no time to revel in the shock that he felt and he immediately got to his feet, seizing Vampire Killer in the process. But his wariness was not needed. Before him and around him, all of the fishmen were nothing more than shrieking, burning bodies, twisting and writhing on the melting snow in their final agonies. A short distance away, Alucard stood watching with a cold, furious expression, his hand leveled before him as the fire flickered and died. Richter gagged at the smell of burnt flesh combined with the sight of the oozing, crisped forms, but even as he watched, the dhampire fell to his knees, his forehead pressed to the cold snow, his shoulders heaving with his labored breath. Silvery hair spilled around him, mussed and tangled, and even as the hunter forced shaking legs to move toward his comrade, he noticed that Alucard had cast off his cloak some time ago and left it trampled and bloody by the boulder he had been sitting on earlier. It was a fair distance away... how far had those legions of fishmen pushed them?

"Alucard!" he lay a hand upon the other man's shoulder, practically falling beside him in his exhaustion. "Are you alright?" Now that he was close, he could see the haphazard way that the coat had slipped from one shoulder, the shirt beneath speckled with blood. As Alucard lifted his head to gaze at the hunter, he saw scratches across the fair cheek, his cravat askew and a ragged slash down the front of his vest. His hair was tangled and laced with small strands of water weed. Richter noted that a few of the burnt husks of the creatures had strands of that same silvery hair twined in their teeth.

"I will be fine." The dhampire breathed, his golden eyes shining with unmasked relief. "I did not expect so many... or that destroying them would tire me so..." To the hunter's utmost surprise, the other man slumped forward against his chest and closed his eyes. "We must be away from here. Quickly. I fear that more of them will come and I have not the strength to burn a second wave like that."

And then, barely audible. "I am glad you are safe, Richter."

* * *

A thin veil of young tree trunks stood between them and the river beyond as they continued to walk, watching the sky glow rose with the approaching sunset. Neither of them ventured near the water's edge for fear that it would rouse more fishmen, or something worse that may have lurked beneath the surface. Richter wondered why he hadn't noticed the dangers of the riverbank before; now that he looked, he could see items in the snow... the ragged remains of rotting wool, yellowing bones peering up from under the pristine drifts, here and there a bucket for drawing water with slats torn violently from it by inquisitive, hungry teeth. He shuddered, turning his gaze away for a moment to look through the trees. They had been walking for ages and still there was no bridge in sight, though Alucard had assured him that his familiar had seen something from the air.

The dhampire's words had been surprising, earlier on in the day and he could not stop thinking about them. It had never occurred to him before that Alucard might have a limit to his pyrokinetic powers; he had simply assumed that like father, like son, and Dracula had never tired of throwing fire at him or any of his ancestors. But then again, Alucard must have been younger... so much younger than his sire, though he had been around for centuries... was his power still growing? Still developing? He found it so strange to consider his comrade an elder creature since his face was so strong... no trace of age upon the beautiful features. But he was a creature of the night, sensual and ethereal... of course he would appear young and fresh. Even so, his visage contained none of the malice that Dracula's had, none of the bitterness or the spite. It was simply cold and smooth, like a statue of carved marble. Gazing at him, it was easy to believe that he could express no emotion, though time and time again now he had seen otherwise.

But more than that, it had been the actions accompanying the dhampire's exhaustion that had really perplexed him. Alucard was constantly expressing his concern in some quiet way or another, and Richter had no doubt that the other man truly wished to protect him from harm. But the way that Alucard had fallen against him, the weakness in his limbs as he had clutched at Richter's coat, the tender press of his body that betrayed his relief... such was not the way a man should act towards his companion. And why had Alucard been so... expressive? It scared him a little, the hint of tenderness in the soft voice, the cool touch that begged for reassurance. The gesture was so warm...

He only realized he was staring when the dhampire turned his head, golden eyes alighting upon his own in mild question. Those eyes were oddly mesmerizing... two deep pools of rich amber, the type that could see into the soul and lay it bare, eyes that could easily discover a dark secret or catch the light in ways that would strike fear into the hearts of men. They were the eyes of his father, eyes that bore semblance to the cold, glittering ones that had pierced his very being while cruel hands defiled him. A shiver ran down his spine at such a dark thought and he quickly averted his gaze, feeling his face burning and heart pounding furiously in his chest. Even as he hurried ahead of the other man, he could feel Alucard's eyes following him, but he failed to see the puzzlement flash across the other man's features.

The bat darted past his cheek with a chitter and a squeak, flapping towards a bend in the fast flowing water where a simple construction of weathered wooden planks crossed the foaming, turbulent waters. It hovered in the air, chirping excitedly and from behind him he heard Alucard chuckle softly at its enthusiasm.

"I did not doubt you." he muttered fondly, lifting a hand as the creature flew back and settled itself in his palm. "You have done well."

They set off towards it in silence, the sound of their footfalls loud on the planks in the quiet sunset. Richter could not help but marvel at the sight of the reddening sky, the orange disc of the sun settling beneath the trees... it had been so long since he'd last seen it that he could truly appreciate the sight of such simple beauty. Here there was warmth, safety, light. Not like the cold forest and its darker dreams...

The dhampire's hand suddenly thrust out in front of him, stopping him in his tracks, the hiss of silver steel silent above the roar of the water. His head jerked up towards the far end of the rickety bridge, where a solemn figure was standing with a malevolent black bird perched on one smooth, ebony arm. It cocked its head, lips spread in a wide smile, a shocking sight in a face that bore no features; no eyes, no ears, no nose. The ragged cloth of black and gold that it wore fluttered in the evening breeze, the trees on the opposite bank filling with the muted calls of a band of crows. Where had it come from? Richter had not seen it before they started crossing... his head jerked sharply to the side as Alucard strode forward, sword pointing threateningly at the ebony creature across from them.

"You..." his voice was filled with calm fury, his eyes flashing brightly in the weakening light. "You dared to return?"

A hoarse, dry chuckle greeted his words as the creature shook its head, claw-like hand stroking the oily feathers of the bird upon its arm. It was a frightening thing. It looked exactly like its master, lacking the eyes and nostrils that it should have had. _"It is most fun provoking you into action, halfling."_ The faceless one croaked. _"I want to see the horror on your face when I hurt the one you hold most dear."_

Bewildered, Richter looked towards the other man. Alucard was bristling, fangs bared in unmasked hatred, his body tense and ready to spring. The hunter had never felt such strong emotion radiate from the frigid dhampire before... just who was this creature and what could it have done to make Alucard react like this? It was almost frightening to see him this way...

The crow on Karasuman's arm copied its master, cocking its head, feathered indents where its eyes should have been staring sightlessly forward. _"I long to see what makes you _tick_, halfling..." _the demon whispered. _"Just how far will you push yourself to protect this man? What will you give to assure his safety?" _The lips pulled into a wicked smile, the crows in the trees around them rustling their feathers and croaking in agreement to the challenge. But Alucard said nothing, only stared with such cold fury in his eyes.

"This is no game, Karasuman." his words could barely be heard above the roar of the water, but the controlled anger in them was unmistakable.

"_I beg to differ, _Alucard_." _Richter felt the dhampire prickle furiously beside him. _"It is all one glorious game to me. And who should remain victorious and take the treasure that sparkles in the light? Let us see, let us see..."_

Without another word, the demon raised its arms, the flocks of crows rising out of the trees behind, the sleek, black creature on its arm letting out a wild and terrible wail. Feathers from the birds swirled around it, each crow diving from its place in the air to join with the squalling twisting bird, a bird that moved like a shadow, growing and growing with each new addition that dove down and disappeared into the folds of its distorting flesh. The feathered indents had begun to swell, bulging grotesquely from the sides of the great head, the beak twisted, warped and cruel. It swayed in the air before them for but a moment before letting out another horrible, screeching wail.

The sound was so terrible that Richter clamped his hands over his ears, dropping to his knees with the malicious intent in the cry, the desolation and fear that it struck into his heart. The sound was growing louder and louder, sinking him further into sorrow and despair.

A black wind was blowing over his head, the roar of the river suddenly loud in his ears, dulling the soft, hoarse laughter of the watching god of crows. Somewhere far off, Alucard was calling his name. It was that alone that made him look up in time to find the great bird swirling towards him at incredible speed, its beak wide open, worm-like tongue writhing, eyes bulging and rolling like a tide of maggots beneath the flesh of a corpse. The screeches and wails of desolation filled his head once again as he stared into those sightless eyes, paralyzed with fear. His hands trembled. He couldn't even reach for Vampire Killer...

And then time seemed to slow as a swath of black and gold strode forward and stood in front of him with its hand stretched out to the wailing, shrieking creature. He watched as the bird flew ever closer, a dull thud sounding as the dhampire caught the creature by the throat, its horrible cry stunted for a second. He watched as his companion twisted the feathered neck, heard the snap and pop as it was broken, as Alucard tore the head from the body and threw it, still screaming and wailing, into the river. The song gurgled and finally stopped, the turbulent waters turning black with the creature's pestilence and evil. A foul smell assuaged the air, making him gag, the bird's body struck the wooden planks of the bridge, bleeding and flapping before Alucard put his boot on it, grinding it into the bridge with a splintering of bone.

Karasuman was no longer laughing. The soft lips were creased in a frown.

"_You think you honor him by saving his skin?" _it hissed. _"What man takes pride in letting another man defend him? You will only push him further away by not letting him fight..."_

"Enough!" The dhampire snarled, starting forward towards the demon, leaving bloody bootprints and feathers in his wake. He said nothing else, but the resolution is his gaze was enough to make the god of Crows take a step or two back. It fluttered its three remaining wings and poised its talons, Alucard holding his blade aloft, a good meter of bridge between them.

"_There shan't be a battle for me to fight this day." _Karasuman whispered softly.

Alucard narrowed his eyes, but before he could move, before he could question the demon, before he could even think, the water exploded on the right.

Richter found himself staring as a fish, an enormous silver fish, shining in the dying sunlight, its eyes burning crimson with hunger, burst out of the water. It sailed in a magnificent arc over the bridge, between himself and the malevolent god of Crows. The sound that parted its great, fanged jaws was halfway between a moan and a roar and for a moment, he wasn't sure if he had imagined the cry he heard as its great shadow cleared the bridge and it splashed back into the tainted water, shutting its mouth with a sound like a bear trap. The iridescent tail slammed down on the bridge as it made its way away, weathered wooden planks splintering and buckling under its mighty weight. The bat shrieked. The river roared. And Karasuman's hoarse, mocking laughter rose even above that.

Where Alucard had stood, there was nothing. A gaping hole in the only water crossing for miles. A crossing made even more dangerous now due to the pestilence in the river, pestilence from the crow shaped creature that Karasuman owned. The demon cackled with glee, its body dissolving into black feathers on the wind, laughing and laughing and laughing as it was swept away, as Richter rushed to the edge of the bridge and screamed out over the rushing water, his eyes wide and panicked. The little black bat flew circles around his head, terrified and screeching, its cries doing nothing to calm his own heart.

A silver dorsal fin slid lazily downstream, despite the rough and rushing water.

But of the dhampire there was no sign.

* * *

D:  
After so long away, your reviews will be cherished.


	16. Dreaming

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania. **This fic contains Yaoi**.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: OH MY GOD IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG, HASN'T IT? Like... almost a year too long, right? Almost a year? Almost nine months? I know I told those of you on LJ that I'd be discontinuing the fic, but lately my motivation has returned and I have brought you this. The long awaited chapter 16 that will hopefully pull you all from that horrible cliffhanger I left you with. This chapter aims to give you all a few nice surprises, since I left it so long and tried to deal with rl and all that stuff. I missed the fic and I feel bad for leaving you all hanging for this long. Hopefully I'll be a little better with updates in the future. Sorry for the wait!  
In chapter notes: I don't even know if anemones and orchids are death flowers, but Blackmoore thought they looked pretty.

Please read on and enjoy~

* * *

_Dreaming_

The raging waters foamed and boiled beneath the wooden planks at his feet. Far ahead, the colossal fin dipped beneath the surface, the ripples of its passage devoured by the turbulent waves.

The great fish was gone.

Richter fought the growing sense of panic that he felt, a panic shared by the dhampire's familiar, which did nothing more than shriek and fly in maddened circles around his head. His first impulse was to dive into the murky black water, but after an instant he realized that to do so was suicide. He would not be able to swim in the poisonous taint and even if he could, there was no telling what lurked beneath the surface of the foam. Even if he could survive the wicked poison, something would surely pull him down and then they would both be doomed...

What could he do? How long would Alucard be able to survive in water, tainted water at that, if the fish hadn't killed him instantly or drowned him as it swam away? A vampire could not cross a running stream. Would it be the same for Alucard? He felt a lump in his throat and gritted his teeth, willing it to go away. Glancing around, he realized that the bat's panicked cries had come closer, that the tiny creature was tearing and pulling at his hair with its sharp claws. He looked up at it, desolate, as it shrilled and snapped at him, wings carrying it into the air and over the splintered hole in the bridge. It turned back, hovering over the opposite bank, crying in urgency.

The hunter understood. Getting to his feet, he drew Vampire killer and backed up a few steps, vaulting over the splintered bridge to the other side, scrambling for footing as the splintered planks groaned and gave way under his feet. He ran after the bat as it shrilled again, steady wings beating as it flew downstream.

Down the banks he ran, calling Alucard's name, scanning the fast flowing water for any sign of the dhampire, the bat soaring over the dark stream, shrieking in fright and surprise every time a form burst out of the mire to snap or claw at it. Richter could see that whatever Karasuman had thrown at them, that disfigured, pestilent bird had affected the monsters here as well. The ones that leapt up looked as though they were dissolving, ragged scales covered in blackening welts, glowing eyes desperate and pained. It seemed that only the fish were unaffected, though he could see many of the silvery forms flopping helplessly on the banks, as though they had fled from their very element in order to escape the fate that the monsters had come to. He stopped only to catch up a few of them, wondering if they would be palatable, nudging another back into the water with the toe of his boot. To his surprise, it slipped below the surface and swam away, completely unaffected by the black murk that had engulfed its home. Perplexed, he hurried on, scanning for any sign of his traveling companion in the dying light.

Richter had no idea how long he ran up and down that riverbank, but as night fell and he became all but blind, he was forced to give up. He'd even lost sight of the bat in the inky blackness, the sliver of light from the crescent moon above providing no aid in his cause.

He had shouted until he was hoarse, fighting the fear back for as long as he could, but as the night drew over the sky and extinguished the light, his hope vanished in smoke along with it. His body ached with exhaustion and trembled with cold, his feet numb and calves damp with his mad rush through the snow. Right now he didn't even care if he froze, so great was the sorrow in his heart.

_Alucard will not be done away with so easily. _He told himself in a last, desperate attempt to keep himself heartened. _He's stronger than that. He's stronger than that..._

It had begun to snow again by the time he sought shelter beneath a rocky overhang, pressed to the cold, unforgiving stone that provided little shelter against the wind. The soft falling flakes swirled about him, and though he managed to clear a little space in the snow, it was quickly filling up again as the winds blew harder into the angles where the rock would not protect him. It wasn't long before he was damp and shivering, his attempts at a fire weak and fluttering with every echo of the wind and every snowflake that shriveled to steam in its tiny flame. The fish that he'd picked up from the bank proved to be pestilent after all, as they had oozed thick, black mucus when he cut them open, a terrible smell following. Gagging and retching, he had thrown them down the bank, wiping his knife off in the snow, horrified to see that the metal had corroded somewhat from the coating of the vile fluid. With a curse and a groan, he had thrown it into the surrounding gloom, returning back to his shelter to find that the small flame, the only burst of brightness in this dark, frozen, unforgiving land had gone out. He dropped to his knees before the tiny pile of damp sticks staring at it hopelessly.

_How could things have ever come to this?_

There was nothing left. No light. No warmth. No comfort. His hand dropped to his side, where Vampire Killer rested. Surely there would be creatures out in the night devouring the fish that lay on the banks not far from where he stayed. Should they find him in his sleep... With nobody to stand guard and no shelter to keep his form truly hidden, how would he ever wake in time to fend them off? He closed his eyes, hiding his face in his hands, ignorant of the snow swirling about him, melting into his hair and clothes. He was no longer trembling, the cold had set so deep into him. The question howled in his mind as the wind swirled around him, nipping and cruel, frigid and numbing.

"_There is nobody to blame here. Nobody but your own wicked self._"

His head jerked up, blue eyes wide, fury welling in his heart at the grave voice, the mocking undertone. And hatred filled him as his gaze found the crimson eyed figure cloaked in the shadows of the snow, half obscured by the swirling flakes. Numb hands clenched tightly around Vampire Killer as Blackmoore seemed to glide from one shadow to another, his footsteps muffled by the snow, his legs hidden in darkness. He wore black, a thin, extravagant veil covering his face, its edges torn ragged on the horns that protruded from his hair, a bouquet of pristine white flowers in his delicately clawed hands. Staring at him was like looking into a dream, and for a moment, Richter entertained the notion that it might have been... there was no way that the fiend could be here in person. He never fought his battles face to face.

"Away with you!" He snarled, staggering to his feet. "I feel no guilt for crimes that I have not committed!" His tongue seemed thick in his head, the fury bubbling forth like a fountain as the full realization of the other man's words came to his mind.

"_Nonsense._" he laughed, pale form seeming to billow as he stepped lightly through the snow. "_What have you to live for now, Belmont? The one you love is dead. The village you swore to protect has abandoned you. And now, even when you try to find me to have your revenge, you cannot! And better still, your precious Alucard has also passed from this world... Died for the sake of the futile quest you continue to pursue!_" soft red curls bounced on his shoulders as he tutted, eyes half closed, smile wide and mocking. He trod so lightly, even when Vampire Killer whistled through the air, cleaving a large chunk out of the rock that he had been standing in front of a moment before.

"Monster!" Richter snarled, pointing the holy whip at him. "The task before me is clear, Blackmoore. If I am to ever find redemption, it will be through your death!"

_Destroyer of my life and livelihood. I will spill your blood across all of Walachia. I demand payment for the innocent lives that you have stolen! _The words remained unspoken in his heart, his fury too great, his mind in too much of a daze. His tongue would not form the very words he wanted to scream at the demon standing before him.

He roared, lunging for the other man, holy whip cleaving through the air as Blackmoore stepped away, grave and smiling. Furious desperation drove him onward, he saw nothing but the solemn, mocking creature before him and the path of the whip that never found its mark. His body ached with strain and cold as he lashed at the demon time and time again, struggling to ignore those poisonous words, those hissed whispers that told him that he was the one who had brought about their fates, their despair. Blackmoore made a mockery of death in this chilling, solemn way of his, which was perhaps even more terrible than his usual laughter and jeering. They danced through the forest this way, deeper and deeper until the weak light of the moon was no longer visible.

"_And here I shall leave you..._ " The fiend's expression was feigning sorrow as he adjusted his glasses and whirled around to face Richter, stretching out an arm to toss the bouquet of flowers at the hunter's feet. "_Its a pretty little grotto, Belmont. A fitting place to meet your end._" He smiled, shaking his head, membranous wings making soft, wet noises as they burst from his back, ruining the fine cloth that covered him. "_Where are you, Belmont? What are these trees, where is your home, your family, your companions? You have nothing left to live for._" With a sigh and a chuckle he spread his wings wide, his form dissolving into the darkness of the night. An illusion. A dream.

Richter felt numb. He looked around, realizing with horror that he could barely see the faintest shadows of thin trees all around him in the dark, that he could no longer hear the river. The snow was still falling thickly all around him, but now he knew not where he was. How far away had the shadow of his enemy led him with its disguise? He felt his heart sink, a lump rising in his throat. He could not find his way in the dark. Not like this. His fury was slowly ebbing away, there was nothing to stop him from realizing there was a terrifying sense of nothing in his limbs, that his body felt heavy and his skin like the ice itself. Vampire Killer fell from his nerveless fingers and he struggled to pick it up again, fumbling in the snow. His legs gave way beneath him and he found he did not feel like rising again.

Curled up on the frozen ground, he let the snow cover him like a blanket, his body heavy and sluggish, his eyes drooping. People died, falling asleep in the snow like this. He shouldn't. He shouldn't. But he was so tired... just a quick rest. Just a small rest wouldn't hurt him...

Just beyond his hand lay the small bouquet of flowers; anemones and orchids bound in black ribbon, a posy of death and eternal rest. The parting jibe of Blackmoore's sick mockery. His eyes slipped shut in exhaustion, his heavy, aching body slowly becoming warm and light again. A soft sigh passed his lips, his breath rising in a small cloud of mist into the swirling snow as he became still.

And before consciousness left him completely, he could have sworn he saw the red haired figure step out of the shadows again and bend down to lay another flower atop the tiny pile. Soft lips parted in a fanged smile as he stepped back and surveyed the scene at his shadowed feet.

"_Goodnight, dear Richter._ "

And just like a shadow, he melted back into the surrounding darkness. Silent as the snow and without another word.

* * *

White. Purest white. Silver flakes falling from a pristine sky.

How long had he lain asleep beneath the frigid cloak of snow? How long ago had the night shuddered and shifted, fading away into daylight once more? How long had he slept?

The sky overhead seemed to glow with whiteness. So pale that it was colorless. So bright that he could see nothing beyond it; no clouds, no sun... no true light. Even the trees around him had faded into nothing from the shining intensity. He blinked, blue eyes wide, his lips parted ever so slightly as his chest rose and fell, the silver cloud of his faint breath rising up to disappear in that light, as icy flakes wafted down from the heavens above, pressing sharp, chilling kisses to his numbed skin. He felt nothing. No pain, no cold. Even the fear had left him- he was content to simply lie still here. To... meet his fate.

His sigh danced before his eyes; shining particles in a cloudy whole. His body felt light, as though he could simply rise up into the sky and float away on the breeze... only, there was no breeze. There was no sound aside from his own breathing. Was he to die? Was he already dead? The question lingered for but an instant before snowflakes brushed against his eyes, coaxing them shut once more. Could he return to his slumbers? It was so peaceful here, so quiet. So easy to just let his eyes remain closed. For now. For eternity...

Slowly, heavy lids lifted once again, the look in dazed blue orbs one of curious perplexity. The sound of shuffling footfalls had broken the silence of his own breath, faint yet jarring in his repose. It irritated his ears. It was almost enough to make him want to rise from his comfortable position. And it was growing steadily louder. The soft tromp of boots on fresh fallen snow.

A shadow fell across his vision, blocking out the light above for but a moment. A silhouette stood over him, sharp and black against the backdrop of white. He stared up into dull amber eyes, seeing the worry, the exhaustion within them before the figure descended, falling to its knees at his side. The heavy crunch of packed snow seemed much louder than it should have, yet even as he winced, trying to let his ears recover from the jarring echoes of the sound, he felt a hand upon his cheek. Strong, cool fingers smoothed the hair from his face, every movement laced with fatigue.

How strange it was to see him here, in this light. He wanted to speak, to ask, _Where did you go? Where are you? Please tell me you live. Please tell me that you, too, have not fallen into a realm so close to that of death. _But he found his voice stuck in his throat, as though trapped there by the thin veil of powdery flakes upon his skin. Even as he stared, as he tried to give voice to his worries, his fears, a tenderness crept into those golden eyes, the soft lips parting as though to speak. But with a sigh, the shadow seemed to fall, collapsing against his chest, as light and as cold as the snow all around. Richter shivered, feeling the rise and fall of that strong chest against his own. He was so cold... why?

"Oh Richter..." The rich baritone, though spoken in naught but a whisper, sounded fair and clear in their otherwise silent world. It was a sweet voice. A familiar voice. He wanted to cling to it, out of loneliness, out of worry. Blue eyes met golden and he knew his heart echoed the feelings he saw there. His mouth moved soundlessly, wanting to reassure, wanting to tell the other man that he was alright, that already he was searching, searching... wanting to tell the other to run. Run from this cold, welcoming abyss. But a cool, slender finger lifted to his lips, stilling his silent voice.

"You and I... we were careless, were we not?" he heard a soft cough, almost like a weak chuckle. "Maybe I am just dreaming of you or you of me... but now we are together again..." the form against his chest shifted, strong body sliding against his own as Alucard dipped his head, his face inches from Richter's own. Soft locks slid from his shoulders, cascaded around their faces, a thin veil of silver, a shield of shining lace. He felt a ghost of a shiver pass through his body at the proximity of that ethereal form, his breath catching as a cool hand lifted to cup his cheek, the fair forehead descending to rest against his own. "Forgive me. It is my fault that you are here."

_No_, he wanted to say. _My anger led me to this end._ But all he could manage was a very slight shake of his head. A very faint, very tired smile. But it was enough. The sorrowed expression on the dhampire's face softened as those deep amber eyes fell upon his own.

"Richter..." the voice was a velvet whisper, enough to make him forget about the frosty wasteland that encased them. "We cannot meet our ends this way..." the dhampire blinked, lashes lowering, his gaze wavering, suddenly uncertain. And so tired... oh, the fatigue that showed upon his face, as though he would soon be in a state so similar to Richter's own. If they both lay in the snow, they would know nothing more. And realizing how close Alucard was to that... it chilled his heart even more than the snow around them. The dhampire's fingertips found his hand, pulling his mind away to focus once more upon that face... a face filled with tender care, with pain and sorrow... with the spark of fear in the depths of his visage.

"Grant me your strength... so I might undo what I have done..." Golden eyes slipped shut, the majestic head falling to the snow at the hunter's shoulder, too weak to say anything more. The faintest flutter of cool breath made itself known against his neck. Neither of them had much longer – wherever Alucard was, he was fading, fading... and that realization drew the voice from the hunter's lips, weary and ragged, barely more than a whisper itself.

"Y-yes... Alucard..."

And he managed to smile as the dhampire gazed at him, at first in uncertainty, warming slowly to silent thanks. He moved with a graceful slowness, those cool, slender fingers caressing his cheek, slipping down his jawline, coming to rest gently against the side of his neck. Richter was uncertain about what the other man had meant when he spoke of strength, but he trusted Alucard. If he would live... if they would both live...

The dhampire's body was so close. He felt himself being drawn against that cool form, felt soft lips against his throat, a silver caress that made him shiver with something more than the cold. He felt nothing at the kiss, no warmth, no horror, no revulsion. Yet he knew what was to come - was it the falling snow, the constant chill that drove the care from his heart?

Fangs pricked the vein, drove deep into his flesh, yet he couldn't even cry out at the pain he felt. His fingers spasmed, his arm jerking up to grab the dhampire's shoulder, his hand fisting unconsciously in the other man's cloak. He could feel the little life remaining within ebbing away, the knowledge that he was fading, coaxing his stance to change. Blue eyes slipped shut as his body relaxed, his hand lifting to tangle in the dhampire's hair, to hold him close as he fed, his other arm pulling Alucard closer still against his body. He heard the heavy inhalation of breath, the soft gasp of what could only have been pleasure, but whether his blood or his touch had coaxed the sound, he could not be sure.

He only realized that there had been warmth on his neck when Alucard pulled away, the icy snowflakes caressing him once again. He opened his eyes slowly to find the other man arched over him, his breath heavy and golden eyes all but gleaming with newfound strength.

"Richter..." there was something in the depths of those amber orbs, something his fading consciousness struggled to comprehend. Alucard was saying something, but he couldn't make out the words. A hand gently brushed his hair from his face, his shadow stretching over Richter's form as he leaned close, so close... the other man's lips feathered against his own as he whispered something too softly for the hunter to hear. And then that mouth descended, pressing to his own.

For a moment, he froze, lost in incomprehension, his body acting upon its own, not giving his mind the chance to catch up. His lips parted, accepting the dhampire's kiss, feeling warmth returning to his limbs – and with that warmth, movement. He couldn't understand. Alucard's body slid against him, the dhampire's skin warm against his own. For a moment he was alive again, for a moment he saw everything clearly, reveled in the sensation brought by that simple kiss of life, their shared energies. For a moment, he was helpless in those arms and for that moment, he realized that he wanted to be. He felt only Alucard, knew only Alucard's warmth, Alucard's tenderness towards him. A tenderness he knew he should shun but would not. Could not.

"Wake up Richter..." the other man murmured against his lips, breaking the kiss a moment later to sit back on his heels. The white world was growing whiter, as though shining with light. A true light this time, filled with warmth, radiating a glow. "Come... find me..." His soft voice faded as the world bloomed into light, the shadow of his image fading away. Richter winced, lifting a hand to shield his eyes, but even then it was too bright. And warm. He closed his eyes tightly until the glare had faded from behind his eyelids and he once again heard a voice calling to him from far away.

"Wake up..."

The pop and hiss of a fire in the background reached his ears. The warmth and weight upon his chest was that of a blanket, a thick, heavy quilt. His eyes opened slowly to find a thatched roof high over his head, the pale, watery light of morning upon his face, shining through a clear glass window to his left. He lurched up, staring around in wide eyed surprise at the well furnished room he had awoken in, the sturdy stone walls, the hand-knotted rugs on the floor, the bookshelves in the corner, the fire crackling merrily in the grate.

Where was he? What had happened to Alucard? Had it been a dream? He moved to pull the blankets away, startled to suddenly feel the pressure of a small hand on his own. In his surprise at finding himself far from where he had fallen, his gaze had completely skipped over the black haired child perched on a stool at his bedside. Dark blue eyes met orbs of a startling emerald green as the child of no more than seven years shook his head furiously.

"You can't get up yet!" he said insistently, blinking up at the stunned hunter. "Sora won't be happy if you move before she sees you!"

Richter blinked, humoring the child by setting the warm, heavy quilt back over his legs. Confusion all but rolled off his features as he took in the boy's appearance. Shaggy curls framed the small, dirt smeared face, a dirty smock clothing his lithe form. The hunter couldn't help but to smile at the sight of the scuffs and grazes on the boy's knees and elbows – no doubt from playing in the streets. But there was an almost skeletal slenderness to the child's form, a hollowness around those over-bright eyes that suggested he was starving. Times must have been hard on this town – wherever 'this town' was.

"H-how did I get here...?" his own voice sounded strange and sluggish to his own ears. What had happened to the unfeeling snow? Where had the shadow of the dhampire gone? His hand lifted to his throat, fingers searching for the pinprick marks that the memory of those fangs should have left, must have left... The boy drew his hand back, watching him quietly as his features dissolved into surprise, confusion. It must have been a dream. It had to have been a dream.

"Sora brought you here." the child tilted his head as Richter's fingertips crept to his own lips in thoughtful bewilderment. The memory of that warm, tender kiss still lingered. "She ran in shouting that demons were coming and that we had to make up a bed and then some men brought you up here and..." his eyes lit up. "And you're awake now! So Sora can come see you and I can go out and play again!" He hopped off his chair, looking over at the door as it clicked open, and a young girl, hardly older than fifteen strode in, her eyes wide with worry and concern. They were siblings at a glance, from their thick, shaggy curls to their bright eyes – even to the tattered clothing. She looked like a taller, older, feminine version of the excited child now bouncing up and down beside her.

"It is good to see you awake, Belmont." she said softly, bowing politely as the little boy pranced and cheered around her in quiet excitement. Smoothing his curls, she ushered him outside, quietly closing the door and smiling at him apologetically. "Please forgive my brother... Crista is... excitable at the best of times." She hurried over to his side, peering at him curiously, examining his fingers for signs of frostbite. "Do you feel yourself, Belmont? You seem rather... dazed." she cocked her head, her hand clasping his own.

"Dazed...?" he frowned, blinking. "No, not at all, my lady. I am perhaps a little... bewildered. I did not expect to wake in a bed in a home with... you and your brother watching over me." his lips quirked in a slight smile. "Could you enlighten me as to where I am...? And how I came to be here?" he frowned. "My last memory is of falling... into the snow..." He trailed off, wondering. Had it truly been a dream? Those lips had been so soft, so warm... that simple kiss had felt like it brought him back into life...

The young girl, Sora, watched him with quiet concern, clearing her throat to draw his attention before speaking, somewhat stiffly and formally. "You are in Cordova town, sir Belmont. Or at least... what remains of it. Like the rest of Walachia, we have seen more than our fair share of monsters in the past few months... perhaps more than any other town due to... well." she hung her head. "I've heard stories that you passed this way once before."

Richter blinked. Cordova? The name of the town was familiar to him. A town that had lain at the foot of a castle, a wide, vast city that had overflowed with life... three hundred years ago. Cordova had seen many hardships since its destruction, he recalled tales that his father and grandfather had told him by the fireside, where his ancestor had defeated Dracula so long ago. Time and again, Cordova had been rebuilt, though every time there seemed to be less and less citizens willing to dwell within the sanctum of its walls. Plagues ravaged that town, wild animals, sicknesses, murders. Cordova was a place considered forever tainted, forever marked by the blood of the innocent, the fell worms of evil.

He had passed by the ruins of houses once before on his way to Castlevania and the residents had been withdrawn and inhospitable. When he left by Castlevania's gate, they had all fled or had been killed in their flight. So there were still people living here? Their numbers must have diminished significantly since the monsters had begun appearing...

"Cordova..." he looked toward the bright eyed girl. "Yes, I remember now..." his gaze returned to the room, to the furnishings, to the bookshelf. "This place seems... quite well taken care of despite the poverty this town has seen."

The young girl flushed and bobbed her head. "Yes... we are quite lucky. Our town has... well, something of a caretaker. He has been kind to us in the recent months."

"I see..." the hunter nodded, lurching suddenly as her words struck a chord. "Have any other travelers been this way, Sora? Has anyone been found by the river?" The concern must have showed on his face as he caught hold of her hand, her face creasing into expressions of surprise, bewilderment, worry. He saw a flash of fear in her eyes, and recalled that he was a legendary figure to these people. He hated to be treated with awe and wonder, he did not feel that he deserved such a high place in their hearts. Not after the incident at the castle... it hung over his head like a shadow, knowing he was so close to the place that had brought him so much grief.

Relaxing his grip on the girl's fingers, he bowed his head. "I'm sorry if I startled you..." he said softly. "It is just that I was traveling with a companion. I... he fell into the river and I haven't seen him since. I had hoped..." He looked into Sora's eyes and saw only a sadness there. She shook her head slowly and his heart sank. "I had thought if you found me... then perhaps there was a chance that he would have..." a sigh escaped his lips as his chest became tight. Was it really so painful to be away from the dhampire so? He could only pray to God that Alucard was alright...

"I-I have seen nobody." She said uncertainly. "But... perhaps Alyss has found him?" She smiled brightly as he raised his head to gaze at her with unspoken curiosity in his eyes. "Alyss was the one who found you and brought you here. Maybe... maybe your companion..." she trailed off with a shrug.

"I would pray it so..." The hunter almost whispered. "We came so far together..." the faintest smile creased his lips, though his eyes were sad. His gaze dropped to the quilt that covered him, his hands clasped in his lap. "He was... he's stronger than that... I hope he is still well... wherever he is..." he couldn't stop the quaver in his voice, couldn't stop the worry, the fear from showing. Alucard... had that dream been a farewell? He prayed it wasn't so. Oh, how he prayed it wasn't so...!

"You must really care for him."

Sora's voice interrupted his thoughts, made him raise his head once again to look into those bright green eyes.

"I can see the concern for him in your eyes." she said softly, staring at her feet, hands awkwardly behind her back. "You must be really really worried about him to look like that. I'll bet you two were really close." she shuffled from one foot to another. "I'm almost jealous."

He stared at her, wondering what on earth she was suggesting. But it made him wonder; he and Alucard? Close? The dhampire hardly spoke more than two words to him when he could help it. Stony, aloof Alucard had always walked five paces ahead of him in their travels. Alucard, who had always watched him with impatience as he rose in the mornings, taking his time to disentangle himself from the dhampire's cloak. He had always felt that they were on such different levels, Alucard in a realm so far from his own.

But... Alucard had also been kind, in subtle little things he did. The same Alucard had pulled him from dangerous heights, had guarded his back as they fought the pestilent fury of Blackmoore's creatures. Alucard had shielded him from Karasuman's attacks, Alucard had held him close when fear and nightmare left him in anguished, desolate tears. And the look he had seen in those amber eyes in that unfeeling, snow filled world... perhaps they had shared a bond that even he didn't realize. But could such a thing have traversed past the boundary of simple camaraderie?

His fingers unconsciously lifted to his lips as he drove the question from his mind.

"You said that someone found me...?" he changed the subject, his gaze focusing once again on the young girl before him, watching as she bobbed her head. Apparently she was also quick to change the topic from the words she had just mentioned.

"Yes... the boarhounds found you in the snow. Apparently you were just... lying there with all these flowers strewn around you." she wrinkled her nose. "You were half covered in snow and looked so frozen... we were really really worried that you wouldn't wake up at all. But Alyss..." she trailed off, looking towards the door. "Oh!"

Richter followed her gaze to where a cloaked, cowled figure was brushing snow from his shoulders, the loud sound of barking outdoors indicating a pack of hounds had been let loose in the streets. He stepped into the room, dark hood pointed towards the bedridden hunter, the voice beneath it sweet and soft with a musical lilt. It was the voice of a former aristocrat. The familiarity of it sent a shiver down the hunter's spine.

"It is good to see you roused, Belmont. I had worried you would not wake from your cold induced sleep." He paused, scratching at his chin, which was covered in short, reddish bristles that suggested he had been a few days without a proper shave. Rough leather gloves were plucked from what were revealed to be delicate, almost ladylike hands. "I have come to demand your services, Richter Belmont. Cordova is doomed without them, and I have reason to believe if this madness continues, all of Walachia will be doomed as well. Let. Us. Talk. Business." Each word was clearly and crisply pronounced, each syllable carried a hint of a familiar whine.

Those fine hands lifted to the hooded cowl and drew it back in one quick motion, causing the hunter to gasp audibly. Orbs of of an orange so rich that they almost seemed red pierced his own as the older man stared him down. Faded scarlet was the shade of his hair, peppered with grey, falling in waves down the back of his cloak. He recognized those high cheekbones, the long, aristocratic face. Clouded glasses graced the bridge of his nose, his forehead was creased with wrinkles, full lips pulled in a perpetual frown. For a moment, a thrill of fear passed through his being at the sight of the other man, though he was clearly older, tireder, as worn down as the rest of the Cordovan residents that lived in this town.

"My name is Alyssandro." he spoke gruffly. "Alyssandro Blackmoore. And since rendered you a service by saving your life, I insist that you render me one in return."

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Alyss is too straightforward D;  
Reviews would be loved. Sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long. Forgive me? ;w;


	17. Fable

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania but Castlevania owns me. **This fic contains yaoi** but if you've read this far you're probably wondering where the heck it is. I'm starting to wonder that myself.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Wow hi, remember me? Its been well over a year and 9 months since I last updated Moonlight, but hi I am back again finally with the long awaited chapter 17! I've been rolling around and getting my studies sorted, and dealing with all that fun stuff, but I could never forget about this fic. It is my baby and I will see it through to completion, even if completion is years in the future somewhere ff. So hi, its nice to be back and it feels great to be writing Moonlight again and I hope you all enjoy the chapter and it meets the standard of all my previous chapters since I've been so out of the loop on writing for such a long time. I've actually had quite a few issues writing this chapter. I had most of it done and its been sitting around on my computer for over a year with just the ending missing. I've been debating on the direction Moonlight's going in lately and have been wondering if I should change the rating at all. I mean sure its great saying it contains yaoi and all, but it'll be a really... really long time before I even get to any intimate scenes. Up until this point its just been really really really vague shounen fluff. WHO KNOWS THOUGH, I SURE DON'T. Lets just see where it goes and if I need to change the rating and tweak all the chapters, I will. I need to give all the earlier ones an overhaul because of all the page break nonsense.

But we're all here for the fic and not to listen to me ramble, so please read and enjoy~

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_Fable_

Once upon a time, Cordova had flourished. It had been a city of greatness, of power, a stronghold against the outside world though its citizens lived beneath the watchful eye of a distant Count.

Three hundred years later, it was but a shadow of itself. A shadow that somehow had still retained its people despite its history, despite all odds and superstition, though these generally came in two types. There were those who believed in its terrible curse and wanted to make up for their ancestors sins, and those who were from far away and lacked understanding, strangers who simply wanted a place to live.

Blackmoore and his father had been of the latter two. A librarian and his innocent son, who had fled their lonely estate in the denser forest when the merchants could not use the roads any longer and the creatures of the night had crept to their door. Cordova had been a stronger civilization in those early days, and its residents had welcomed the scholar and his boy. Alyssandro was a merchant of books, his former home had been filled with them. Collections in Latin, in English, in their native Romania, in languages that he had spent time learning, just so that he could understand and share in the knowledge that their tomes held. Even in their flight, he had not thought first of provisions or comfort, the cart they had arrived in town with had been filled with the most precious of their books. To Alyssandro, his books were as much his children as the living incarnate of his flesh that hurried after him with bright, inquisitive eyes.

They had made their home in Cordova town's grand old library, Alyssandro working day and night to restore the place to its former glory. Even with the place fixed, he made regular trips to their old mansion to retrieve the masses of volumes that he had left behind. His little son had waited for him, caring for the hounds and spending his days in the dimly lit library, reading books to pass the time until his father would return home with the next armful. Marcel had been an antisocial child. He had barely spoken and eyed the other children with mistrust. He was a pale and sickly boy, who did not like the rough play of the others, and preferred the company of literature and the quiet to their laughter and noise. He had been raised alone on his father's land, and while he had manners and etiquette, he did not know how to act in the presence of people and so he had withdrawn into his own quiet world.

But children often mocked what they did not understand. Why would Marcel not come into the light? Why would he prefer those dusty old books, fables and stores to the company of real people? There had to be something wrong with him. He had to have been one of the Strigoi. A devil child, with bright red hair, a vampire that would only come out under the cloak of darkness. He became a source of entertainment for them, he was forced to endure their jeers and torments, the rotted produce they pelted him with when he lifted the latch and went out about his business in the streets. Many times his glasses were broken. He often bled from the stones cast at his body, thrown from snickering assailants hiding in the dark alleyways and behind the rubble of the former city. His father could not protect him; Alyssandro was away gathering more books to bring home, more books for the two of them to enjoy.

But one day his library, his sanctum, his safe place was invaded while he left to purchase food for his evening meal. Alyssandro had returned home to find Marcel sobbing in the center of a room where pages were strewn about like leaves, soft curls of ash sifting over the carpeted floor, a testament to the knowledge forever lost. Gathering the boy up in his arms, they had repaired everything they could, before Alyssandro left Marcel alone again to speak with the families of the town. Nobody owned up to the incident and as Marcel had not seen anyone, he could not point the finger and blame. But something in the child had changed. When Alyssandro returned from his next expedition, he found that his son had trained his hound to attack all who dared to approach the Blackmoore residence. It had maimed one of the girls who lived nearby and Marcel had only looked on with dark, scornful eyes as he was scolded and reprimanded. The city's children had left him be after that. Whispered his name, called him a vampire, spat at him, but nobody ever ventured forth to harm him again lest he retaliate.

They had spent many years in Cordova, watching as things slowly became worse, as a dark blood moon rose into the sky, as Walachia was cast into eternal night. Marcel had been unmoved, even as they had fled. As a young man, he had grown spoiled. Cast together once again beneath the cloak of darkness, his father had given him everything in attempts to make up for the time they had lost while he hunted books in his youth. He was content in his library, reading the days away, serving the occasional errand. He was quiet, only speaking up if there was something he wanted, but when he wanted, he demanded. Alyssandro was only too ready to please. They had grown apart as Marcel had gained his years, and the sentimental old man within him missed the company of his son.

But then Belmont had come. The master in the Castle of Chaos had been defeated. The residents that had held their own returned to Cordova and celebrated with the rest of Walachia. But Marcel had become more distant than ever.

"I had rather liked the quietude of eternal night." he had mused one evening as they bowed their heads for supper. Alyssandro had been surprised, but did not think anything more on it. He began to hunt for more literature again, now that the roads were once more safe, inviting his son along with him. On some occasions he had obliged, but many times, Alyssandro had the door shut politely in his face. On his last expedition, Marcel had promised to organize the library and had even embraced his father as Alyssandro headed for the door.

When he had returned, his son was gone. And thirteen of the townsfolk, all children that Marcel had grown up alongside, were dead. Slain in their beds, their faces contorted in expressions of pure horror and pain. The townspeople were afraid. Whatever had killed their young men and women had tried for the life of another boy, a young man who had awoken with the aristocratic face of young Blackmoore inches from his own. He was bedridden, but described what he had seen to Alyssandro, trembling with fear all the while.

He called Alyssandro's son a Strigoi, described his horns, his talons, his membranous, bat-like wings. He sobbed words of demon, beast, creature of the night. He insisted that he was going to die. That the monster would not rest until he was dead. That Marcel was taking revenge on all of them for the way they had treated him as a child. He confessed that he and his friends had entered the library all those years ago, weeping all the while, saying that they had been searching for Marcel's coffin, they were going to put a stake through his heart so he would not harm anyone any longer. They had been children, they had not understood. They had hurt Marcel as his father had not been there to protect him from their childish cruelty. But he had never forgiven them for their insult, for the harm they had brought to his most treasured possessions.

He had fought the demon off, stabbed at it with a knife crafted from the ruined chapel's iron cross. It had shorn through the creature's fiery locks, snapped the beast's left horn in two. On his bedside table lay the evidence; the splintered point of a twisted black horn and a fistful of vivid, crimson curls.

Alyssandro struggled to understand. Eternal night was vanquished. His son could not have been a monster! This had to be some mistake, some shapeshifter taking the form of his boy. He returned home and began to search his library, reading through tome after tome, trying to find some explanation for it all. In the days that followed, the young man died. His family had heard him screaming, locked in the throes of some terrible nightmare, despite the locked doors, the guardian hounds, the salt laid upon the windowsill. Fear had made his heart stop. His face was contorted in terror. It only spurred the elder Blackmoore to read more and more, later and later into the evenings, til the moon waxed and waned and over again.

And that was when the creature had come to him.

He had woken in the dead of night, cheek resting on open book. His lamp flickered dimly, but the moment his lids had parted, he felt that he were not alone. As he sat up and looked towards the doorway, he found the silhouette of a man standing there. His son. His Marcel.

"_Hello, father_."

The rumors had been true. The man before him was as naked as the day he was born, thick black horns protruding from his hair, delicate fangs resting on full lips. Alyssandro could not help but appreciate his son's beauty despite the situation, but his heart froze, cold as ice, when he realized what had come to pass. Among the literature he had come to collect, there had been certain volumes that spoke of darker things. Rituals and magics, terrible things that could only come at a terrible price.

His boy, his child had returned for only one thing. The book that he had used to take this form. Marcel spoke in seductive whispers, telling the wide eyed Alyssandro of the gift he had been granted, of the voice he had heard when he first chanted the incantation. Words of promised vengeance and limitless power, if only the younger Blackmoore would do all that he were commanded. His son had been seduced by that dark power. Marcel had willingly bowed his head and called that voice his master. And fourteen people had died as a result with surely more to follow.

Alyssandro folded his hands in front of him, gazing across the table at the wide eyed hunter. He had been led downstairs to sit before a stone hearth, at a table laden with the house's meager offerings. But Richter felt no hunger, so in shock was he. "So you see, Belmont... I am the father of the creature that has plagued Walachia with monsters, the fool who seeks to sow terror and destruction amongst the world." He closed his eyes with a sigh. "I have been a negligent father and I wish to right my wrongs. I need you to aid me. I demand this boon from you."

He raised his head and glared at the other man with those bright copper eyes. "This is a burden on my heart, I wish to put a stop to the boy's nonsense. But he has proven it, alone I cannot hope to best him." he shook his head. "He could snap my neck in a heartbeat and he will not hesitate. He gave me a warning that night to never seek him out. He destroyed my library so that I might not learn his secrets or find a way to combat him. I realized at that moment that he held hatred and resentment towards me as well... for never being a true father, for never being there for him when he needed my aid. His childhood... I feel the only reason he spared me that night was because of the blood we share. He hates me as much as he hated those children... but he has given me this chance because he and I have known happiness and comfort in each other's arms... even if for a brief and fleeting moment." A sad sort of smile crossed his lips as he sighed.

"You cannot refuse me this, Belmont." he said quietly. "Cordova is under my hand at the moment. My knowledge of the monsters has given us ways to combat them. My hounds are trained on the scent of demons. These people look to me for advice and leadership. I will not let you leave until you agree to my terms."

Richter stared. "You mean to say... you will not let me free unless I aid you?"

A slow, almost arrogant smile crossed Alyssandro's lips. "That is correct, Belmont. My books can only provide me with so much knowledge. Truthfully, I lack the means to combat this creature myself." He looked towards the window. "As you can see... Cordova is but a shadow of a shadow, something so small and so insignificant in these wretched times. Our settlement is the first that the monsters flock to... I believe the boy is out for the blood of every last citizen here. He had a temper like no other."

"Our priests were the first to go. He wanted to make sure that we would have no defense against his evils. Monsters have walked our streets, plagued our doors." The elder Blackmoore looked down at his hands. "It is only through superstition and the force of my hounds that we have lasted this long. But he knows this. And soon he will overpower us. Every night we lose more of our people, every night it is more of a struggle to force the creatures back. I know he will come for the rest of us soon. It was a stroke of luck that I found you out in the cold. You owe it to me, Belmont. Use your divine power and drive the creatures away from here. Use your legendary whip and destroy my son."

There was an almost ferocious bloodlust in the undercurrent of his voice that startled the hunter. How could he be so vehement toward his own flesh and blood? Alyssandro did not even want to try to save his child's immortal soul from the forces that had consumed it. Was it too late to do so? Did he hate his son as much as the younger Blackmoore hated him? They seemed so evenly matched in that respect; dark eyed and filled with bitter fury, a mutual loathing pulsing in their veins with familial blood.

But nobody wants to be held against their will, forced into a task simply because of one man's anger... and he didn't know what sort of power lay beneath the elder Blackmoore's skin either. Richter stared thoughtfully down at the table, linking his fingers as he mulled the scholar's words over. There had to be more to him than just this. A librarian could not simply become one who led a town, especially not a superstitious civilization like Cordova. And seeing what his son had become from simply reading the collection in his library... they had just met and he had no doubt that Alyssandro was hiding something of his own. One did not simply _breed_ hounds that had jaws that could... rend the monstrosities beyond the city walls.

The scholar must have noticed his hesitation and worry, for a slight sneer touched his lip. "I see you need time to wrap your head around all of this." He lifted a hand in a slow, lazy gesture. "The girl will escort you back to your room. She'll see to any needs you have... I'll expect your co-operation by dawn, Belmont." There was a steely glint in his rust colored eyes that dared the hunter to argue.

Richter, however, was not intimidated. He rose slowly from the table, casting a dark look at the seated librarian. "Lord Blackmoore." his voice was soft, his tone cold but reasonable. He couldn't believe this man, the arrogance in him, those simple words that made his blood boil. As infuriating as the wicked tongued incubus... though they shared the goal of wanting to see that one crushed. "I will do what I can for you and the people of Cordova. As a Belmont, I cannot leave you without my aid." His eyes narrowed. "However, I refuse to be intimidated or directed by your whim. Do not think you can threaten me with your power over the city. I will not tolerate any abuse. You will forgive my bluntness, Lord Blackmoore, but I do not trust you."

The elder Blackmoore raised an eyebrow, his head thrown back in a harsh, barking laugh. He waved a hand airily, as though dismissing the thought, regardless. "Believe what you may, Belmont. I've no reason to prove myself to you. But I know of the goodness in your noble heart... you will not leave regardless of what I say or do to you. You have a duty to my people... you won't leave them helpless and alone. Not when you've seen the hope in Sora's eyes and know the one who torments you is all but drawn to this very city..." A smirk crossed his lips as he saw the hunter's teeth grit and gaze darken. "I do not envy you, Belmont, not at all... with the burden of so many lives resting upon your whip. But do not believe for a second that I will let you leave until that son of mine is vanquished." His voice had lowered to a steely hiss, once again hushed and dark, again with the fury directed at his offspring. "You may feel this is a trap, but I assure you it is not. Sora can vouch for my intention... whether you believe her or not is another story."

The hunter remained still, his body tense with trying to keep his anger in check. How dare he! To ask for help was one thing, to demand it another, but Alyssandro's sheer _arrogance_...! He hated how the elder Blackmoore had read him so well, knew exactly how he would respond to the situation, though he had not said a word. How was he to spend his days like this? Bunked in the home of his enemy's father...? He let out a soft breath between his teeth, allowing Sora to take his arm and lead him back to the room upstairs, striding ahead of her to sit heavily on the bed, his hands running through his hair.

The girl stood in the doorway, fidgeting with her ragged smock, unsure of what to say or do. The hunter let her be, his mind in other places. Trying to understand how he'd found himself trapped in Cordova town. How he would ever catch up to the werewolves and extract his revenge. What had become of Alucard and where the dhampire was now. If he'd simply dreamed the kiss that had woken him from his sleep.

Those last two sent a little thrill through his blood, his face coloring in shame behind the curtain of chocolate curls. Alucard... there were so many questions behind that dream, behind what he had felt through it. He should have been repulsed by the other man's touch, should have refused to share his blood... He recalled how, so many times in his years in captivity, the count had bled him, just to taste the sweetness of the Belmont clan's blood... opened his veins until he was an inch away from death, laughed at his pain and reveled in his suffering. His skin crawled at the thought now, yet it had not when Alucard had laid his lips upon the hunter's throat. Once again, his hand lifted to the side of his neck, his lips creased in a frown of worry.

"I'm... I'm sorry for the way Alyss behaves..."

He jolted suddenly, turning his head to gaze at the young woman in the doorway, her head bowed, her gaze firm on her toes. He had forgotten she was even there, so caught up in his own whirling thoughts. "He... he means well, I promise. Losing his son to... well." she lifted a shoulder in a little shrug. "He loves Cordova and... and the people here. When... When Marcel left he was sentenced to be hanged... I never saw it for myself, I've only heard stories but... the town was beset by monsters and he directed the people against it. They couldn't kill him after that... he's nearly died so many times himself just trying to keep his son's creatures at bay." Her eyes shone with love, admiration.

"When our mother was taken by a were-bear, he took me and Crista in." An awkward little smile had come to her face even though her gaze did not meet his own. "he's been like a father to us. Please, Sir Belmont, I know he's... difficult to be around but. He means well. Truly and honestly."

The hunter's expression softened, a weary and defeated smile. This was more... so much more to this than just a battle between a man and his forsaken son. Cordova was cursed, stained with old blood, now doubly so with the younger Blackmoore's appearance and the terror he brought. Cordova was a town of the strong, of survivors, against all whispers and odds. They had still prevailed somehow, in some way, though the city had dwindled since the days of long ago. He had no choice. His heart could take no other path. He would lend his aid to the town, for the sake of her people, regardless of the tyrant who wanted to keep him chained here.

"Don't worry." He promised her softly, shaking his head. "I do not agree with the methods your... host has presented but I am a hunter. I will not forsake you or your town. Believe me, Sora." Was he listening to himself? Blackmoore was well on his way of crushing the hunter's soul, thickening the blight that already lay upon it. His hand moved to his belt, taking hold of the holy whip there and laying it out upon his lap, blue eyes gazing steadily upon it. He had tainted the whip's name, its memory, allowing himself to be lost to the darkness. So hard he struggled, fleeing down the path of righteousness, trying to redeem himself for the corruption, the wickedness of his years in the Count's clutches.

Could he prevail this way? Alone now as he was?

His grip drew tight on the handle of the whip as eyes slid closed. He had to try. For the sake of the residents here, for the sake of his companion now lost. He dismissed Sora and returned to bed, pulling the quilt up over his shoulders as he rolled onto his side, gazing out at the moon over the ruined city.

* * *

Elsewhere, another pair of eyes rested upon Cordova town, a deep smoldering crimson framed by locks of bright red hair.

Wings were drawn close against Marcel Blackmoore's body, staring as though hypnotized by town basked in pale light. A little sneer drew to his lips at the sight of the lights within the houses, the silhouettes of moving figures beyond drawn curtains and glass windows. He was up high, perched at the fringe of the forest, the town laid out before him in all its snowy quiet, still shifting and moving with life beneath a layer of downy flakes. Walls reduced to rubble were flanked by prowling hounds, demons in their own right for what they had done to the creatures he had created. He wondered, just how the old man had managed to create them. How he had managed to hold his armies off for as long as he had. The old bastard just seemed to refuse to die.

Delicate claws flexed at his side, a frustrated gesture, clenching into a fist an instant later as he snarled softly under his breath, turning away from the sight below. His shadow flickered beneath him, its form lost amidst the shades of the trees, a pair of burning red eyes upon the inky ground the only sign that it were there, as alive and as ready as he, at all.

"Look at your face..." came a soft chuckle from somewhere behind him. He whirled, eyes narrowing as the succubus landed nearby, bat-like wings, folding close against her body. "The way you stare down at them so vehemently, its a wonder you aren't killing them with your majestic gaze of ire."

"_I don't have time for your jokes_." he replied softly, turning back once more. "_What are you even doing here. What do you want?_"

"Just because you have assigned me to babysit the Heart doesn't mean that I don't get curious about your little war effort from time to time." She tittered, wagging a finger at him with a seductive wink. "She is well, by the by, bleeding just as profusely as ever, in spite of that horrible lashing you gave her. She cries to me and tell me how much she dislikes you-" she yelped suddenly, cut off mid-sentence as the shadows swirled up around one leg, squeezing tight in warning. The glowing red eyes slid closer to her, though Blackmoore himself did not turn.

"_Shut up. If you've got nothing to do but banter on stupidly, you'd best go back to her and actually be of some use to me._"

"Oh, but then I'd be doing more than you are here, dear Marcel." She sniffed, gazing snootily down her nose at him, ignoring his snarl of warning. "What are you even trying to accomplish, standing here on your own, with none of your monsters at your back? With that look on your face like a hungry little waif, starving for another morsel of bread, one you're sure to find in the wreckage of that town over yonder?" A sneer came to her lips, her arms delicately crossing beneath her ample bosom. "What holds you back? You're all talk, my little lamb... you go on and on and on about their wretched existence, yet your creatures haven't even made it to those walls, let alone claimed a life!"

He whirled then, catching her across the face with a vicious backhand, made all the worse by his demonic shadow moving with him. She cried out in pain, corset slashed and three deep gouges of red raised across her belly in addition to the reddening welt on her cheek. The incubus' pupils were pinpoint in his fury, teeth gritted and claws trembling in visible fists.

"_You know _nothing_ of what I am doing here!_" He screeched. "_Were it not for Belmont, for the damn beasts the old bastard has prowling, I would have had my revenge long ago!_" He stalked over to her, seizing her chin, lifting her face to his own as though trying to burn her through with his gaze. "_Don't think I'm being held back by anything or anyone, you miserable whore! I will have them! I will paint the snow with their blood, just you see that I don't!_"

Even though she grimaced in pain, she still managed a smirk. "W-why wait?" she grunted. "What... stops you from taking them now...?"

Once again he hissed, throwing her down into the snow. "_Karasuman._" He snarled softly. "_I'm waiting for Karasuman. No damned enchantment or petty hex can stop a god like that._" He turned in the snow, returning to his place at the fringe of the trees. "_I sent him to follow up on something. It would seem that Belmont's progress across the river yielded some... interesting results._" He waited for a few dramatic seconds before looking over his shoulder at her. "_The Rahab... well, it seems to have eaten the halfling he was traveling with._" A high pitched giggle left his throat.

"And Belmont?" The succubus rubbed at her neck, sitting up carefully to peer at and examine her wounds. "He's in the village now, isn't he? That's why you're staring at it as sullenly as you are." A hint of a smile found the corner of her mouth as his faded immediately away. "So he didn't die out in the middle of the forest. There's a pity, Marcel, I thought you had him for sure this time." Her tone was mocking. He struggled to ignore it.

"_He is weak now. It is a prime night for an attack. Many of his hounds roam away from this pitiful excuse for a village. As soon as Karasuman gets here..._ " a wild, gleeful smile spread across his face, his wings fluttering in barely restrained excitement. "_I'll take them then. The old goat will have his hands full with Belmont. I'm certain he thinks I won't come after him if a legendary hunter resides within his walls... I'll prove him wrong. I'll kill them all in terror and fear... I'll devour his heart and sacrifice his body to my lord..._"

"Anyone would think you were getting off to this." The succubus smirked, eying his red eyed shadow nervously. She couldn't help but leave him with a parting jibe.

"_Why are you still here?_" He growled.

It was the end of the matter. To linger would mean risking death once again. Gingerly wrapping an arm around her bleeding midriff, the succubus turned, wings unfurling as she limped away. She'd barely made a path through the snow when the air filled with the raucous cries of crows, chased by the sound of rushing wings. Her head turned as the faceless god landed in the snow and he stalked past her without a word, the crunch of his bare feet loud in the slush as he came up behind the brooding Marcel.

"_Your report, Karasuman._" He still didn't turn. What arrogance he'd developed, speaking to a god as though it were a lowly minion. But he received no reply, only a soft, fluttering thump as something was thrown to the snow at his feet. The crows all around cackled in glee, a veritable aura of smugness and contentment emanating from the god as it crossed its arms and turned its blank head towards the incubus expectantly. If it had had a face, the succubus somehow knew it would have been smiling, a dark, satisfied sort of leer.

Blackmoore lifted his feet daintily in the snow as he turned slowly to survey the heavy swath of sopping, muddied fabric that lay before him. All at once his crimson eyes lit up, his gaze darting up to Karasuman and back down to the object he'd thrown, up and back again, once more. A wide, excited grin spread across his face, childish and malicious all at once as he hopped from one foot to another, stooping to pluck the full length cloak from the ground and hold it up before him as though unable to believe what he was looking at.

"_Oh you beautiful creature..._" he groaned, running a claw delicately over the fabric. "_Its his, isn't it? This is just what we need, we'll make our move tonight. Oh Karasuman! Tell me, where did you find it?_"

The god waited for the noise of the crows overhead to fade before the rasping voice spoke out. _"Down by the river. Caught in the stones where the water stained red."_

* * *

_He was walking down a moonlit path, the sound of rushing water loud in his ears. An inky river loomed at his side, snaking off into the distance like a thick black ribbon, peppered with jagged protruding rocks. He wasn't sure why he followed it, for it led into the darkness, a bleak, heavy expanse that slowed his footsteps and made him hesitate as the sky dimmed overhead. Something was whispering in the water, soft yet clear... cutting through the air with such clarity. Calling out his name._

_He thought to stray from the path, stepping out onto the riverbank... but the light seemed to dim as he did. He looked warily back towards the path but continued on, following the whispers, almost certain that another sound was accompanying every step away. Almost like a tinkling, crackling noise... but he couldn't be sure above the rush of the water and the pleading little whispers that overlaid that._

_The riverbank was boggy, his boots sinking into the mud as he tried to tread carefully, but it did not deter him in the slightest. That whispering voice still called for him, begging him closer, pleading for his aid. But the further away he moved from the path, the more the sky overhead seemed to creak and groan. How, he wondered. There were no trees, only the path dusted in moonbeams... he turned back to squint at it, so dim it was becoming..._

_And suddenly he was at the water's edge, peering down into the inky ribbon, watching curiously as bubbles rose to the dark surface, each one whispering his name as it burst._

"_Where are you?!" he called. "What do you want with me?" It had grown so dark now that he could barely see... the moon split apart by deep cracks and grooves. It was almost as though the sky had become a vast pane of glass, ready to shatter at any moment.._

_Something burst from the water and grabbed his ankle with a shriek of glee. Cold fingers, pulling at him. A head of tangled blonde hair rising out of the water to stare up at him with a dead, doll-like smile. Her scream seemed to be the last thing the night air had needed, the moon overhead shattering into a million shining shards, raining down all around him, plunging the world into black._

_He cried out. Her grip was like iron, cold, wet and unyielding. Even though the world had darkened all around them, the rushing water loud in his ears, she glowed with an unearthly light, displaying her ashen skin, her naked, waterlogged body in all its glory. A corpse. A drowned corpse._

_Once again, with Annette's face, a twisted mockery of Annette's smile._

_He yelled, he tried to pull away, lurching backward in the mud, but she held on so tightly. Her lips were moving, water spilling from between them as she stared at him with those dead, soulless eyes, hair and trailing water weed falling about her face as he wrenched her this way and that, desperately trying to get away. He was sinking into the mire of the bank, every step was getting harder and harder to take. In the eerie glow of her body, he could see that the river ran dark. The stench was like blood, the mire like entrails... something was shifting in the water behind her, a shadow rising and lifting._

_Another corpse, as though dangling on strings._

"_Come Richter... Won't you join us...?" A shadow of a whisper that he felt he almost remembered._

_The limp hair, pale and golden. The tattered finery that he had seen but only a day ago. Stretching out to grasp him, flesh and sinew barely hanging off a skeletal hand. Water and mire still trickled from rotting lips as it whispered his name, stared at him from beneath a curtain of hair, crumbling and decomposing before his eyes._

_Alucard. No, no... him too, in a twisted mockery of death._

_He screamed, distraught and horrified as those dead eyes seemed to glow. Annette was pulling at him, taking advantage of his shock. He could feel the water lapping around his ankles, at his knees. The drifting figure's head snapped up with a sudden, sickening crack, the jaw slackened, falling open to reveal a gaping black expanse of nothingness. The water was at his waist now, Annette's face swimming before him, grinning eerily as flesh peeled slowly off of muscle, as her eyes rolled about in her skull. Alucard's mouth was opening wider and wider, intent on swallowing him whole, on drowning him here in this watery grave with the both of them, a gurgling, choking roar escaping the depths of his throat as he lunged suddenly-_

_-and suddenly it was no longer Alucard but an enormous silvery fish with rows and rows of sharp, cruel teeth extending into the very depths of its black, hungry throat. Closing over him, devouring him, splintering his bones and grinding his flesh with every chomp and swallow. Intense pain, churning, screaming._

He sat up with a yelp, his heart canting madly in his ears, his body drenched in sweat. Shaking hands groped for his nightstand, passing over Vampire Killer resting there, taking hold of a glass of water that rested just beyond. It was downed in an instant, leaving him panting and breathless, fingers running through his hair as he tried to wipe the horrific dream-visions from his mind. Not only Annette this time... Alucard too. Hands fisted tightly in his hair as he struggled to ignore the implications. His breath seemed to rasp loudly in his chest as he struggled to drive the burning from his eyes. Night after night... how much longer could it go on for? How many deaths would he have to endure?!

Somewhere downstairs the door was banging on its hinges. Creaking and groaning in a wind he could not feel beneath the quilt of his bed. He froze, breath huffing as the crystalline tinkle of breaking glass reached his ears. The baying of a hound followed it, stopped abruptly by a sharp yelp a moment later.

And then he heard it, the desperate patter of fleeing feet, the shrieks and screams of terrified villagers. The stairs to his room were creaking softly now, followed by the telltale thump of an approaching presence. He could hear whatever monstrosity that lay beyond his door breathing; great panting breaths of some huge animal. There was a thump at his door, one that had him throwing the bedsheets back and grabbing the holy whip, wood splintering as he didn't even give what lay beyond the chance to see that he was within, simply cleaving the door in two with his weapon's power.

Five goat-like hooves flailed as the creature let out a bleat of pain, its vast lion's head burning at the touch of the holy relic, jaws snapping and eyes rolling as it tumbled back down the stairs, crushing two fleamen that followed into smears of blood on the hearthstones. A Buer. Fleamen as well? Now he could hear the cries of crows from just beyond the threshold, hear the thump of swift paws and the gleeful shrieks of carrion crows. Fire wargs were barking as snuffling snorts set woodwork aflame. Beasts that had somehow broke in beneath the cover of darkness. How? Alyssandro said he had the town protected and the hunter had believed him... to have experienced an attack so suddenly, so soon, so _violent..._ could it have been... due to his very presence here?

He ran down the stairs, hopping over the Buer's still twitching corpse, not even stopping to put on his coat as he burst into the town square. Bodies of both townsfolk and hounds littered the ground as smoke rose to the starry sky above, flames casting sharp, harsh shadows, making everything seem truly more horrific and garish than ever before. Wargs locked jaws with Alyssandro's hounds, tearing and ripping at one another, eyes glazed red with hatred. The elder Blackmoore was deep in the thick of it all as well, barking orders to the people as his robe swirled around him, lips moving silently as wispy silhouettes of fire and ice swirled about him. A summoner? A magician? Alyssandro had kept his own secrets.

It seemed that everywhere Richter looked, beasts were locked in a struggle, devouring the corpses of the slain, cutting down the innocents that still remained, were still trying to flee. He was frozen with horror at the sight of it all, so sudden, so brutal. Every last monster with the same hate-fuelled movements that he had dealt with time and again...

And standing upon the ruined wall, watching it all with a seemingly placid air, the crow god Karasuman, hand lifting, waving idly, like a general lazily guiding his troops into battle.

Where he pointed, his creatures surged, wild animals urged onward by their own madness. Richter cried out, spurred into action, heading a fire warg off as it bounded after a woman fleeing with her children, whip cracking into its skull, into its jaw, tangling about its legs to tear through them and throw it off balance. It behaved like a demon, trying to rise, even with shattered paws and broken jaw, breath wheezing horribly through its staved in face. He left it, turning to the others that still roamed, whip at the ready as his free hand groped about his belt, throwing vials of holy water and silver daggers at the monsters he couldn't reach.

Keep the people safe, he thought, watching them disappear beyond the flames, beyond the gates. Protect them above all else.

Teeth grit in fierce determination as he began his assault with new-found vigor. Though he was but one man, he wielded the holy whip with desperate intensity. The dream was all but thrown from his mind as he ran from home to home in the burning village, tearing the doors down, calling the villagers to escape, begging them to hurry as the flames roared about his ears and embers seared his clothes. Too late he realized that his supply of holy water was running dry, that his silver blades were all but lost, lodged into the hearts and skulls of writhing, dying animals. He now barred the west gate, ushering the last of Cordova's sobbing, ash-smeared residents through.

But just as suddenly as the attack had started, he found himself staring desperately around, realizing that nothing else came, that the only forms to litter the streets were those of the dead; both human and animal alike. The sound of snarls and howls and caws had all faded into nothing. No more beasts approached. Despite the choking, crackling flames and cloying smoke, there was an unsettling silence and one look at the town square soon gave him the answer as to why. Karasuman had left his lofty perch above the burning buildings and the wicked god of crows now prowled silently towards a defiant man with faded crimson hair, blocking the way onward to the path where the villagers fled.

It was not the elder Blackmoore's torn robe and bloodied side that drew the hunter's gaze, however.

Neither was it the two small forms crouched before the scholar, green eyes glowing with an unnatural light; children ready to defend the man who had taken them under his wing.

No, the demon had donned a cloak, mud streaked and bloodstained. A cloak that held so much familiarity, as the hunter had slept beneath it on the coldest of nights, wrapped himself in it when the fire had not provided warmth enough, huddled beneath it when it had rained or snowed and Alucard had deigned to walk alongside him rather than take it off... yet now it fluttered in the fiery breeze, proud as any proclamation or banner.

And sent an icy stab of dread through the vampire hunter's heart.

* * *

Its good to be back.  
Reviews are loved and appreciated~


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